Upon My Knees, Do I Repent
by Paulathe Cat
Summary: Author's note
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I have to say, that I have never written slash fiction. Not ever. Nope. Not even in my imaginings… well, maybe in my imaginings… but, they were never coherent enough for me to try and write them down. So, this little plot demon comes by and sit next to me and says, "Hey… hey, you… want some slash fiction plot ideas?" I, of course, said, "Christo!" Sadly, the little demon was persistent and he kept popping in when it was least convenient. So, I relented. *sigh*

Like I said… this is my first ever attempt, so… try not to flame too harshly. But, please let me know if I should keep my day job.

Also, I do not have a beta so the mistakes you see, please let me know so I can fix them. I read and re-read and edit and change and… well, it's never enough, is it?

**Disclaimers:** This is a transformative work of fiction based on Erik Kripke's Supernatural and is not meant for profit, only fun and frolicking (Destiel Destiel Destiel!). No harm or infringement is intentional. This is rated with a Hard R for smut and sex between consenting male adults as well as a couple cases of language.

**Spoilers:** Friends, if you haven't made it to the end of Season 6 or seen season 7 and don't want any spoilers, don't read this. In canon, Dean is completely straight (or so he claims), so he will be out of character in this way. Otherwise, I tried to keep them as close to character as possible.

**Rating:** Last chance… R, Really… not PG-13 with hopes toward R… this is R.

**Upon My Knees, Do I Repent**

The first time Castiel heard Dean's voice whisper his name; the emotions attached to the utterance were despair and regret. The angel refused to heed the call, though it was torturous for him to ignore it.

There were other times that Dean spoke his name. Dean was discussing something the angel had done to betray them or expressing his disappointment in their friend to his brother. Castiel refused to go to Dean. He didn't want to see the look on the hunter's face. He didn't want to see the dark expression of hurt.

There were times, at night or the very early hours of the morning, Castiel would hear his name whispered, a whimper or a sob, pain etched like white hot blades across tender skin in the one syllable, "Cas". These were the times Castiel was hardest pressed to refrain from going to Dean's side. But, Dean believed Castiel was gone, dead, beyond the mortal realm… and Castiel knew it was better—better for Dean—that the Winchesters continued to believe this lie.

When Sam went, of his own volition, to check into the hospital, it was because he believed he was a danger to Dean and to himself. Dean had tried to save his brother from the hallucinations, from the visions of torment and of Hell. Sam's reasoning to Dean was Sam was a ticking time bomb and Dean wasn't able to watch him 24/7. Castiel knew that this was completely his fault. He should have known Sam had not come back from the Cage a whole person. Castiel was an angel and he should have known there was something off immediately upon returning Sam to the mortal realm.

He should have known…

Especially since Castiel knew, from personal experience, the connection between an angel and a human soul…

Castiel will never die. He won't die until Dean does. He won't be done with this life until Dean stays in his Heaven. Then, Castiel will be able to die, to pass and not return. It was the soul of Dean Winchester that anchored the angel to this world.

Castiel heard his name, could almost smell the lingering traces of leather, gunsmoke and aftershave. He could taste the flavors of mint toothpaste, black coffee and cheap whiskey on the tip of his own tongue as Dean spoke the word. He could hear something in his name that he hadn't heard before in the way Dean spoke it. He heard a choked yearning and painful loneliness that strummed his hearing like a bow pulled across the strings to resonate the low bass voice of a Cello.

Castiel knew Dean didn't handle loneliness well. Dean liked to tell would-be paramours that he was like a "lone wolf", but Castiel knew… the lone wolf was usually the first casualty of the hardships of Winter.

Castiel arrived at the last known residence of Bobby Singer. A putrid charcoal smell rose from the burned-out black skeleton… all that remained of a lifetime lived within four walls. Guilt washed over the angel as this was more than a grave marker of a hunter's life. This was a testimony of his betrayal of his friends. This was one of the consequences of his hubris and ambition.

He flew to the hospital where Sam had been admitted. He watched for a long time. Castiel knew, eventually, Dean would call his brother.

He was right.

But, it took a week of watching and waiting. He watched as Sam woke in the mornings to stare out at a world he was no longer sure he would be able to rejoin. Castiel walked with Sam into the large "Rec Room" where the patients congregated daily in forced leisure. Sam sat with his delusions, murmuring to Castiel's brother as Lucifer tormented him with Hell. Sometimes, Sam would press firmly into the palm of his hands with fear shining in his hazel eyes. Sometimes, Sam would cry, covering his ears ineffectually trying to tune out Lucifer's voice and repeating, "You're not here. You're not real. Leave me alone" as a sick mantra. Castiel's insides lurched and wrenched when this is what had become of the Sam Winchester he had known.

And, this too… Castiel knew, this was his doing.

Castiel's name became an itch under his skin as he waited for Dean to call Sam. In the single word spoken by Dean, from who knew how far away, Castiel could hear the pain and desperation in the familiar voice. He could hear Dean's fatigue and hopelessness on the other end of the line. Castiel waited, listening with intense concentration for the clue to where the hunter was hiding. Even before he finished uttering the words, Castiel had arrived in the gutted out building near an industrial park where Dean had cleared a nest of vampires.

There was blood on Dean's jacket… a lot of blood. It was splattered on his face, it coated his hands like slick, red, silk gloves. Castiel wanted to weep. He watched as Dean spoke to his brother, his eyes squeezed shut, his face a rictus of pain, but his voice was sure and strong, betraying none of the physical torment to which Castiel bore witness. Dean laughed at something his brother said on the other end of the call. They were both pretending for the other... Dean was holding back a tide of strong emotions with a clenched jaw and a carefree façade. Sam was joking about his time in the hospital to keep his brother from worrying.

Dean ended the call with a date and time for his next call. Castiel remained hidden even though Dean wouldn't see him. Dean went about the business of cleaning up the mess of bodies and blood. Castiel watched as Dean dragged his weary body to a Ford sedan and slid behind the wheel. Castiel sat next to him in silence. He caught words whispered under the hunter's breath. Some words were spoken in hushed reverence. He heard the name of his mentor and surrogate father. The angel felt still more guilt, he was drowning in it, for making the world around Dean Winchester shatter into pieces when all he had hoped to do was keep them safe.

Castiel remained near Dean for the rest of the month. He watched the hunter visit the local bar just to return to the empty repo in a middle class neighborhood. He didn't look for hunts. He didn't seek companionship. He didn't eat or sleep well.

Then, he called his brother. For about ten minutes, Dean leaned back against the wall while lying on his green sleeping bag. He joked with Sam on the phone and spoke to him about a non-existent Wendigo he was "currently hunting", saying he had back-up from one of Bobby's contacts. When he ended the call with Sam, Castiel watched as Dean cried himself to sleep.

Castiel remained a stalwart sentinel over Dean's slumber. He chased away the visions of Hell and Leviathans as Dean dreamed. For the first time in a week, Dean got almost five hours sleep.

When he rose, Dean packed his belongings, hotwired a dark grey Dodge pickup and headed out of town. Castiel sat shotgun.

Dean drove for ten hours to reach a beach-town in Florida. He began casing some potential places to stay, but it was clear to Castiel that the hunt he came for was not a Wendigo.

Dick Roman was speaking to potential donors for Presidential Primary candidate's campaign. Dean was careful to not appear where cameras could catch his image. Castiel noticed some cameras Dean didn't, but they died with a wisp of smoky o-zone and blue sparks.

Dean was obsessed. Castiel could see it in the narrowing of the hunter's green eyes at the single-mindedness of his gaze as he stalked the Leviathan. Roman moved without fear from a photo opportunity to private luncheon with potential "whales". Castiel privately agreed with Dean… he did not like this Dick Roman.

Castiel entered the darkened hole-in-the-wall bar. This was unlike any bar he had ever seen Dean enter before. Castiel shifted in his unease. There were no busty women in the room. There were no women at all. Dean headed straight for the bar at the back wall and sat in the far corner with a good view of the front entrance and the side door toward the kitchen.

"What can I get you, Handsome?" The beefy bartender asked. The man was about the same height as Dean, but built like a truck. His muscles rippled under the black t-shirt with the bar's pink flamingo logo over the left side.

"El Sol," Dean responded.

The man went and returned with Dean's beer. He remained nearby cleaning the back of the bar, occasionally moving away to make a drink for another patron. He kept an eye on Dean, though Dean appeared to ignore any attention. He was approached by several men who tried to initiate small talk, and the hunter was polite, but he declined the invitations often enough that he was soon left to his own thoughts without further interruptions. He only drank beer and the bartender kept an eye out to be sure he was doing all right. Around quarter to two in the morning, the house lights came on and men started to make their way out into the damp summer air.

"Well, friend… you know what they say…" came the friendly baritone from behind the bar. "You don't have to go home…"

Dean nodded, "But, you can't stay here." Dean eyed the man with an appraising eye to determine any nefarious intentions from him.

"Look, if you're new in town…" he left the statement open to Dean's interpretation.

"I was gonna find a room, maybe stay a few days." Dean told him.

The bartender looked over Dean's head to the bald and heavily tattooed bouncer with a nod. The man gestured to the bartender with a wave and a smile as he closed the door behind him.

"Name's Tony," he said as he turned back to Dean.

Dean tipped the remaining beer into his mouth and pulled out some cash from his wallet.

"Do you work tomorrow, Tony?"

Tony grinned, his pearly white teeth flashed against his dark black skin. His deep brown eyes sparkled with hope.

"Nope."

Castiel was confused by the exchange. The ritual was familiar; the easy banter back and forth between the large, muscled man and the hunter was an intricate dance he thought he understood. But, Dean usually danced it with a different kind of partner.

Tony pulled a pen from somewhere on the counter and began writing on a napkin. He slid the paper toward Dean as the hunter rose from the stool. Dean folded the paper and placed it in his wallet. He smiled and winked at Tony as he left.

Castiel followed Dean out to the truck trying to puzzle what had just happened. Dean drove out to a run down, dodgy no-tell motel inland from Tony's bar. He went into the office, paid cash to rent a single room for a week and grabbed his stuff. Castiel followed him into a small smoke-scented room. There were sounds of the street, a train nearby rumbling along the tracks, and the over-dramatic panting and cries of a female in the room next door. Castiel wondered if Dean would be able to sleep.

It turned out that Dean didn't intend to sleep. He sat at the table in the room and opened Sam's laptop. He scrolled down through a dozen news articles before he looked at his watch. It was five in the morning and the sleeplessness was beginning to take a toll. He moved to lie down on the lime green comforter completely clothed. He folded his hands behind his head and gazed at the water-stained acoustic popcorn ceiling. After a time, Castiel could hear the murmuring from his friend. He heard his name whispered and Dean choked on it as if it stuck in his throat. Dean clenched his eyes shut and his breathing evened out after a while. Castiel knew Dean had fallen asleep. As he had done the night before, Castiel warded Dean's sleep against nightmares that constantly plagued his friend.

When the rays of the morning sun moved across the sky to leave the window of Dean's room in the shadows of late afternoon, the hunter opened his eyes. There was no preamble or slow awakening, just the blink that revealed a fully awake and alert hunter. But, he didn't rise right away. He was lying in the bed with his hand in his hair gazing at the ceiling. He reached into his pocket with his other hand and only when he held his wallet out, did his eyes move. He lifted himself into a sitting position and pulled the folded napkin out in his hand. He looked at the triangular scrap for many long moments before unfolding it and leaning over to reach for his phone.

Castiel watched with curiosity as Dean dialed and waited.

"Hey, ehem… hey, Tony?… uh… it's Dean. From last night?" Dean blushed and rolled his eyes.

Castiel could hear an exclamation from over the line. It seems Tony was glad to hear from Dean. Dean barely suppressed a smirk, but the light never really reached his eyes.

"Yeah, well… had to get a little sleep sometime this week… So, I was thinking about goin' to that rally downtown… yeah, the one with the… yeah, that one… ehem…well, did you wanna… yeah, no problem. We can meet at the bar, if you want? Ehem… right… okay," Dean wiped the his face with his free hand and clenched his eyes shut in much the same way he did when speaking to his brother. He listened for a little while as Tony spoke to him in a much quieter tone. Castiel could not quite hear what was being said. Castiel was taken by surprise as Dean laughed out loud and it was a genuine sound. Castiel looked again into his friend's face to find sincere mirth beginning to bloom. Dean chuckled and sighed as his shoulders rolled back in a much more relaxed pose. He responded to a few more comments with a relaxed air that seemed at odds with what Castiel had observed over the past weeks.

Dean showered and changed, headed out in the truck to park in the bar's parking lot. He waited for nearly ten minutes until a light green Prius pulled up. Tony unfolded himself from the front seat to meet Dean at the truck.

"Seriously?" Dean asked with a wide grin spread across his face. "A Prius?"

"What?" Tony asked as he gestured back to his car. "It gets kick-ass mileage."

Dean barked a boisterous laugh and clapped Tony over the shoulder. "Dude, you are as big as Michael Clark Duncan and you, like, scrunch down into this little clown car!"

Tony just huffed in his good-natured way. The two men began walking toward the center of town. There were people everywhere. Men and women on bikes, rollerblades, segues… they walked, rolled or scooted by on their way to the beach or in the same direction as the men were going. Castiel only half- listened to what the men were saying to each other. They seemed completely at ease, relaxed and comfortable in the other's company. There was music and stalls erected on either side of the street as the two entered the area where they would find the rally. Tony leaned against a wall of a café on the corner as they watched speakers ascend a platform and drone platitudes and slogans to the growing crowds. Tony and Dean paid very little attention to what was actually being said. They would lean into each other occasionally to share an observation or make some kind of statement. The two watched as flamboyantly dressed rally-goers continued to fill the square. Tony made a comment about some of the more outrageous of the attendees which earned a guffaw from Dean. They began walking again to try and get a better view of the platform. Castiel trailed along behind them.

"And, now… _Dick Roman_…" the speaker waited as the audience booed, "_Dick Roman _is wooing the _richest_ 1%," more booing, "so that the candidate who already makes more money than _God_ can run for an office ensuring that those people who make nearly all the money in the country get to keep it in off-shore tax shelters, "booing and jeers, "ship jobs to sweat shops in China," so much more hissing and shouts of derision. The speaker continued.

Dean kept an eye on the buildings and in windows to stay out of the way of cameras. Castiel had already checked the square for electronic surveillance. Tony seemed oblivious to the covert glances and furtive shielding from personal recording devices. Dean lost the cheerfulness he had when he watched the long black vehicle roll near the rally.

The rally had gained the attention of Dick Roman. He emerged from the car and Dean's attention was captivated. Dean's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed and Castiel saw the anger and heat rise from him.

"Boy, you must have a serious hate-on for that guy." Tony pressed to Dean's back and whispered into his ear.

Dean seemed to shake himself from his reverie. He leaned his head slightly to the side to get a better view of his new friend. He smirked at Tony. "You have no idea." Dean responded.

Tony regarded Dean for a moment before reaching out and gripping the hunter's hand, pulling him away from the square. Dean went along with a grimace and a parting glance as Roman began his speech. Tony wound his way through many men and women who heckled and yelled at the man on the platform. They emerged through a narrow alleyway emptying near a lifeguard station on the boardwalk. Tony stopped and turned to gaze directly into Dean's eyes. Something he saw there made him release Dean's hand and turn to walk.

There was something happening now that Castiel found frustrating. He thought he had discovered the motivation behind the charade with Tony. He believed that Dean was pretexting as something he was least likely to be. He went into the bar because the Leviathan would have no way of believing he would ever frequent a place like that. He went to a demonstration against Dick Roman's contribution to the political process attended primarily by the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender community because Dean was least likely to identify or associate with the population. Dean attended with an openly gay man because if Dean Winchester was going to attend an event, it was least likely to be with a gay black man.

But, this new course had nothing to do with those motivations. This was Tony and Dean walking on the boardwalk toward the beach. He watched as they leaned down to remove their shoes. Castiel could feel a pressure building in his chest that nearly left him breathless. He couldn't understand this development. He frowned as he thought how unacceptable it really was. Nevertheless, Castiel trailed behind the men and continued to glower at Tony's back. He held his teeth clenched so hard, his jaw was starting to hurt which made his head ache. These were all human weaknesses that added to Castiel's frustration and irritability.

The pace that Dean and Tony set could only be classified as leisurely. Castiel was watching the two men as they cast contemplative glances at each other. They weren't walking all that close to each other. Dean managed to maintain that "personal space" about which he was always complaining. Castiel was recollecting all the times that Dean had rolled his eyes or expressed his exasperation to Castiel about his failure to keep acceptable air between their persons. Perhaps, Tony was interesting to Dean for that reason. Castiel considered how odd the two men appeared, how unlikely they were to have a true friendship. Tony seemed to have more in common with the men who were exercising there on the beach with his broad muscled back and skin that glistened with sweat against the black tank he was wearing than with Dean. They had the bar in common, but despite the sly drags from a flask Dean kept with him at all times, Castiel had only seen Tony drink water from a plastic bottle. They didn't seem to speak on many subjects but walked a good deal of the time in silence.

They approached a beach front bar and grill with a patio for diners to eat at tables under grass umbrellas. Tony nodded at the hostess and she gestured to a table near the boardwalk. The two men maneuvered to the table and stretched their legs out under it as they sat in the plastic chairs. They sat in silence until a slim waiter came for their order. Dean ordered a beer and Tony ordered some fried potato strings and ice water.

"Have some." Tony encouraged when it came. Dean reached over and plopped a few strings in his mouth. He nodded appreciatively and took a drag from his beer. The two men looked out at the ocean and the people who lined the beach—families with children playing in the water and in the sand, men and women lounging on blankets or towels worshipping the sun, or a few sat in chairs under umbrellas reading or sleeping. It seemed pleasant.

"So, what brings you to Florida, Dean?"

"What makes you think I'm not from Florida?" Dean asked with a smirk.

Tony smiled and joy filled his face. "Oh, come on! Maybe… hmmm… Ohio? No, hold on…" Tony ranged his brown eyes up and down Dean, taking in his clothes, his body, his body language. "Maybe Colorado or Texas?"

Dean shrugged. "We kinda moved around a lot as kids. I'm not from anywhere. More like, everywhere." Dean looked down as he thought about his brother. His face became sober and he faced the ocean once more.

"We?" Tony asked then put another fry in his mouth.

Dean nodded. Castiel saw the façade come up on Dean's face again, the smile that never shone from him the way it did from Tony. Dean looked at his companion. "My brother, Sam, and me. Dad moved around a lot for his job and we just went with him."

Tony didn't ask the obvious question but Dean had tensed waiting for it.

"So, you got to see a lot of the country."

Dean relaxed a bit and leaned back in his chair. The smirk was still on his face but Castiel could see that it was a little more genuine. "Oh, yeah. Way more than any kid really wanted to, I think. But, it was fine. What about you? Always lived here?"

Tony shook his head. "Oh, no… no, no… I was born in Maine." He nodded affirmation when Dean's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "I hated the cold. Moved to New York for school, but decided to transfer to Florida State when my scholarships ran out. Never did finish, but I think about going back sometimes." Tony drank his water with a faraway look.

"You don't sound New England." Dean stated.

Tony laughed. "When I come back from visiting my family, I get the strangest looks for about a week before I can make myself sound 'normal' again."

They sat for a while in silence for a while. They were visited by the waiter a few more times before Tony asked for the bill. Tony waved off Dean's attempts to contribute to the tab since he had several beers and Tony had only been drinking water. "My treat."

The look Tony gave to Dean was warm and affectionate. Castiel grinned. The angel thought that this man didn't understand Dean. Dean isn't looking for affection. He certainly wouldn't find it returned from Dean. He was… "barking up the wrong tree".

As the men walked back in the direction of the bar, Tony asked about Dick Roman. Dean was silent for a long time and Tony just waited.

Dean stopped and fidgeted. He appeared pained and angry. Tony looked as if he planned to take it back but then Dean answered. "He's a dick."

Tony laughed and moved to lead them back in the direction they were headed. "Clearly… He's been funding legislation here in the state to block even civil unions and domestic partnerships for same sex couples. The whole LGBT community here has been having rallies every month. They ramped up the 'Occupy' this week since Roman was going to be here."

Dean nodded as he fumed in silence.

When they reached the lot, Dean leaned his back against the truck. There were hardly any open parking spaces left as the "Happy Hour" crowd had descended.

"Thanks, Tony." It came as a whisper. Castiel turned to look closely at Dean's face. His eyes were downcast and he was separating his keys along the ring. He took a deep breath and Tony came closer to Dean's personal space. Castiel tensed as he watched the affectionate smile on Tony's face slip into something with more heat. Tony's movements were slow, but deliberate. He came right next to Dean and leaned heavy against the truck, the side of his body touching along Dean's. As Castiel watched, Dean's cheeks became flushed. Tony leaned closer so his face came near to Dean's ear, his voice low and husky.

"My pleasure, Dean." Tony didn't move away. He hovered in anticipation. Castiel gripped his hands into fists and narrowed his eyes aggressively even if the men weren't able to see it. He clenched his jaw tightly and moved even closer to Tony. The lamp, though it was still too early for the light to be on, popped and glass from the bulb shattered down over a nearby vehicle. The sounds of sparks and the tinkling of shards falling caused the men to jump. Dean looked around with the reflexes of the hunter he was, but Tony just glared at the light fixture in accusation as it caused a disruption in the near-moment he was having.

"Look, Tony…" Dean's manner returned to what Castiel was used to seeing. Tony nodded. The moment was over. So was the 'date'.

"I had fun, Dean. It was nice. You have my number… I work tomorrow at seven, if you want to come by." Tony appeared moderately hopeful and Dean flashed a fake grin and nodded.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Tony. See you later." Dean unlocked the truck and hopped behind the steering wheel before Tony even opened the door to his Prius. He looked to his friend and laughed. He rolled down the window. "Dude, it still looks like clown car."

Tony grinned in response. "I fill up twice a month, Dean. How often do you have to feed your beast?"

There was really no answer to that question. Dean waved his hand with a grin and rolled the truck out of the lot, heading out of town.

Later that night, Dean was lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. His phone rang.

"Hey."

"Tony?" Dean asked. But, a grin grew on his face as he moved his free hand to pillow his head against the wall as he spoke into the phone.

They spoke for a while and Castiel huffed in annoyance. Instead of listening to the two men joke over the phone, Castiel left the motel room and appeared once more near the ocean. He spent a little more than an hour searching the darkening horizon for revelation. He found none.

He returned to the motel room and saw that Dean wasn't alone any longer. Castiel's breathing increased and the pressure weighed down on his chest, a tension grew in his throat, and there was a prickling pain in his eyes. Tony gripped Dean's arms tight to his torso. At first, Castiel considered intervening, but he realized that Dean wasn't struggling. He didn't look pleased, but he wasn't fighting. The words that Tony was whispering in Dean's ear made Dean flush, but he didn't look disgusted. He didn't push Tony away or tell him off. He listened and his chest rose and fell with his rapid inhalations.

Castiel realized that this was a seduction. Tony held Dean in submission and spoke in a voice to Dean that was meant to arouse the hunter. Castiel thought this was all wrong. There was too much in Dean's life as it was that tried to dominate him. Castiel became angry with Tony for his presumptuousness. How dared he? Still, Dean didn't deny Tony. He didn't try to get away, but he didn't submit. Castiel began pacing as Tony leaned in close enough to Dean's mouth to force a kiss upon him. Dean never showed any indication that this was welcome, but Castiel was amazed that Dean still didn't argue or repudiate the attempt. He stood his ground despite Tony's large strong hands on Dean's arms, still holding him. Then, Tony began to draw him in with slow, deliberate movements. Dean moved, but he remained stiff. His hands moved to Tony's waist. Dean side stepped to maneuver himself into a more dominant position, with Tony's back to the bed. Tony was strong and wouldn't budge from his position.

Tony wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him into an embrace. Dean was tense, but Tony didn't seem to notice. Tony's mouth moved from Dean's mouth to his jaw near his ear. Tony scraped those white teeth against the stubbled skin there. Dean made a sound that went through Castiel and caused anger to burn inside the angel. He watched Tony's hand slide up Dean's back and to his neck, fingering the fabric of the open button-up cotton shirt and pulling it away from Dean's skin. Castiel moved from his pacing path around the motel room to directly next to the men. The bedside lamp exploded in response to the pressure caused by angel's wrath.

Castiel appeared, visible as the last sparks from the lamp lit the air with o-zone. Dean stumbled back away from Tony, his eyes wide and his mouth open in astonishment.

"Leave." Castiel intoned as Tony nearly fell in his surprise that a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

Castiel didn't advance upon the bartender or raise his voice above a gravelly command. His blue eyes held all the fire of Hell and all the righteousness of Heaven. He wasn't taller than Tony, he didn't appear larger or more muscled. Dean had said he looked like a Holy Tax Accountant.

From behind him, Castiel heard Dean choke out a strained question. "Cas, how are you… how are you here?"

Tony's eyes darted to Dean who was halfway leaning against the bed and had nearly fallen on the floor next to the bedside table. Castiel's gaze never left Tony's face, though he spread his hands slightly away from his body in an expression of shielding Dean from Tony's further advances.

"Dean?"

Castiel heard Dean gather himself up and begin moving. The angel dropped his staring challenge as he felt Dean's hesitant approach. He moved his gaze to the peripheral until he saw Dean's socked feet step behind and to his left. Then, he lifted his chin defiantly… possessive… to Tony daring him to continue.

"Tony," Dean's voice was strained and thin. "I… I'll call you tomorrow…. Ehem… I'm… sorry."

Tony nodded but his eyes narrowed in skepticism. He reached down to gather his own shoes and his light jacket, letting himself out. Castiel considered what Tony was telling himself right now in order to try and explain the events. When he turned to see Dean's stricken face, it became the last thing he cared to contemplate.

There were tears beginning to stream down Dean's face and he was gasping for breath. Castiel's features softened. He tried to approach Dean but he saw the tension return like when Tony went to pull him in, he stopped. He took a step back and dropped his eyes in regret. Dean approached him with measured care. Castiel remained still and waited for the recriminations he thought would be forth-coming. He waited and all he heard from Dean was a sob. His head snapped up to capture the vision of Dean break. He rushed forward and gathered the hunter into his arms. He lowered Dean on the bed. He placed his hands on either side of Dean's face, concern and love filled him and he tried to radiate these feeling outward toward Dean. He wanted the hunter to believe that they were real and all for him.

"Cas? How are you alive?" Dean's voice was strangled and reedy.

Castiel knelt before the hunter, his hands sliding from Dean's face, down his sides and to hold his hands with his own, folded in Dean's lap. He rested his forehead on their interlaced hands, the sleeves of his black suit jacket gathered and catching on the rough fabric of Dean's jeans. He shook his head. He didn't know where to start his explanation or if he should just remain penitent. Shortly, Castiel heard the sniffing hitched breath of Dean's control return to him. Castiel still didn't lift his face from his bowed position. Dean tugged his hand loose and began petting Castiel's dark hair, scrubbing his rounded nails along the short hairs at his neck. Castiel kept his eyes closed and his head bowed, though now it was for the pleasure that washed over him as he felt the soft touches on his head.

"So much has happened…" Dean began, his voice slightly nasal from crying. He had to inhale deeply through his mouth to garner enough air. Castiel nodded with his head still in Dean's lap. He remained silent.

"Sam…" This time Dean choked on the strangled word much as he had choked on Castiel's name a month or so earlier. Castiel remained still and waited. If he told Dean what he knew about Sam, it may raise questions to know more than Castiel was yet able or willing to admit.

"Sam is in the ho-hospital…" He was hiccoughing as he spoke. Castiel didn't anticipate the wave of emotions that would overtake him at the anguish in Dean's voice. He felt his own tears falling onto their hands and Dean's lap. He found it difficult to hold back his own raw grief.

"Bobby's…" Dean wailed then in his agony, "Bobby's go-gone."

They stayed still and Castiel could feel Dean arched over, leaning against the angel's head. Suddenly, Dean pushed him away, as though all the emotions dragged memories and visions of the years passed and with those memories, the remembrance of Castiel's betrayal. Castiel allowed himself to be moved back and permitted Dean freedom of movement. With that freedom, Dean paced the room, his hands covering the hair on his head and tears flowing down an anger-darkened glower.

Castiel kept his kneeling position on the floor with his head bowed in supplication. He knew that whatever he said would make no difference to Dean. Nothing Castiel could do now would change what he had already done. He couldn't bring back Sam's sanity. He couldn't bring back Bobby. He couldn't change the past and he was unsure how to stop the Levianthan. Castiel was practically useless to Dean and he knew it. He should have let the hunter find solace in the warmth and tenderness of his new friend. Instead, now, Dean was being torn apart. Castiel felt so selfish and low. Tears continued to rain down both of their faces.

Finally, Dean stopped his pacing and approached Castiel. He gripped the angel's hair in his tight and aggressive grip. He tilted Castiel's face up at him. The wide blue eyes met green in their teary communion and the sorrow Dean saw there was real and profound. Dean jerked his hand and Castiel allowed himself to be shaken by the hunter. He whimpered- not from physical pain, but from the emotions he could see in Dean's countenance. Dean slid down to sit on the edge of the bed again.

"What am I going to do, Cas?" Dean asked with a hoarse and defeated sigh.

Castiel waited and thought for a moment before he made the first tentative movement toward Dean. When he wasn't spurned, he moved closer until his hands rested with feather-light weight upon Dean's knees. He moved a fraction closer with every second Dean didn't thrust him away or refuse him. His eyes searched Dean's face and he reached with timid and unsure fingers to wipe the tears from his skin. Their eyes made contact and held for a moment before Dean's went guarded and closed. Castiel felt the isolation and removal of the intimacy… a clear rebuff of Castiel's attempts to renew their bond. Dean didn't trust his angel anymore and Castiel would need to do a lot more to regain the affection he wished to his Father he hadn't taken for granted. He sighed, dropped his gaze and his hand and moved back.

He could feel the heat of Dean's regard. They sat like this for a long while. Finally, Dean rose with a slap to his own knees and approached the angel kneeling down on his. Dean's fingers combed through Cas' hair. They reached down lower as Dean squatted down in front of his friend. His fingers smoothed down the side of Cas' face and gripped his chin with a firm command. He sighed out his nose as he regarded his angel. There was a faint glimmer of hope in Castiel's sparkling blue eyes. He felt that maybe Dean would allow him to redeem himself.

"Come on, Feather-head." Dean reached for Castiel's hand and hefted him to his feet. "I'm hungry."

Dean straightened Castiel's suit jacket and white shirt. He fingered down the blue nylon tie until it, too, was presentable. Dean shook his head in amusement. "Dude, you need to wear something less…" He waved his hand gesturing to all of Castiel. Then, he threw up his hand in defeat.

A small smile alighted Castiel's face. This was the closest he thought he was going to get to Dean telling him that he was willing to allow Cas to make it right with him. It was code. Dean straightened his own attire and wiped a hand down his face in an attempt to mask the earlier tears.

When they were both in the truck, Dean suppressed a grin as he looked at the passenger seat to see the angel riding shotgun. He stifled a chuckle. Castiel turned to regard Dean with a half-smile riding up into a grin. He enjoyed seeing this side of his friend. Dean hadn't been Dean in a long while, and Castiel knew it was in large part, if not entirely, his doing. He had no idea that his return could have this profound an impact on Dean's recovery.

It was dark and there was a Biggerton's outside of town near the interstate. They were seated near the swinging kitchen doors and Dean could smell the wafting aroma of burgers and fries. He ordered coffee and his usual bacon cheeseburger. Castiel ordered the same to be wrapped "to-go", along with a slice of pie. Castiel didn't intend to eat it but that was what Dean commanded him to tell the waitress, so he did. Dean ate his burger and regarded the angel across from him. He kept flashing a look that seemed like something confused him about Castiel. When Dean took his next bit of burger Cas spoke up.

"There is something which you wish to ask, Dean. I will try to answer as best I may." Castiel voiced in his low gruff tone.

Dean finished chewing and remained pensive as he did. He rested his forearms on the table and reached for the hot mug. After swallowing the drink of coffee he leaned in and addressed the angel.

"Why did you interrupt me right then?" Dean asked in a whisper.

Castiel tilted his head as he tried to interpret the question.

"You mean, when I told Tony to leave?" Castiel wondered.

Dean nodded as his eye darted around to check if they were being overheard. Castiel considered how he would answer the question. He thought maybe Dean already knew the answer, so he wanted to make it as honest as he could without embarrassing himself or the hunter. Dean took another drink from his coffee as he waited for his answer.

"I did not find him an acceptable mate for you." Castiel decided to say.

Dean nearly sputtered coffee across the table, floor and Castiel. He wiped his mouth as Castiel remained stoic while watching Dean clean himself and regain his composure.

"No one says 'mate', Cas. Except Australians and that's in a completely different context. " Dean whispered. He considered Castiel's statement while looking into his unblinking expression. "Why did you 'not find him acceptable'?"

Castiel rolled the ideas in his mind before responding. "He tried to dominate you, Dean."

Dean ducked his head and leaned almost entirely across the table. "We weren't doing bondage or anything, Cas. He wasn't trying to dominate me."

Castiel shook his head, "He may not have been doing so with malice or intentionally, but he was."

Dean stared at Castiel for a long time before going on. "How long were you watching me?"

Castiel dropped his gaze and looked at the interior of the restaurant. When he looked back at Dean, he saw that his friend had gone pale. "How long, Cas?"

Castiel shrugged. "A while."

Dean's posture, his voice and his expression had gone aggressive again. "How _long_?"

Castiel sighed. "I have been with you for over a month. Before that, I stayed with Sam for a little over a week."

Dean seemed to relax. He regarded Castiel briefly before asking the next question. The tension in his voice revealed the truth his body was hiding. "So, how long have you been back before you stayed with Sam?"

Castiel had to consider the time. He didn't really exist here before he went to Bobby's salvage yard. He tried to put it in a timeline that was true but that would not result in an altercation with Dean. He was unsure what answer would least likely end the tentative strings of reconnection they were beginning to establish.

He decided the best policy with Dean was to forge ahead in complete honesty. So, he told him that he wasn't "here" when he had heard Dean call the first time or any of the times really after that. He told him of the impetus that brought Castiel to see the ruins of Singer Salvage. He told Dean that the angels were still interested in the lives of the Winchesters, if only as fodder for Heavenly gossip. He had heard that Sam was hospitalized and where, though they didn't know where Dean had gone. He told Dean that he waited for the call and how he found him after the vampire nest. He told him how he watched Dean from that moment on with the exception of the hour or so between Tony calling and sometime after arriving tonight. When Castiel fell silent, Dean studied his face for several minutes.

"You know, I can't tell if you're lying. You fooled me before." Dean went back to eating. Castiel felt the bottom drop out of his insides. He could feel his face and fingers grow cold.

"I'm telling the truth." Castiel whispered. He looked at his hands folded neatly on the table in front of him. "I told you that I wanted to redeem myself to you, Dean. I meant it. I won't lie to you again. That was how I got…" Castiel felt the stinging burn in his eyes. He turned his face away from Dean's scrutiny.

"What's with that, Cas? You never used to do that." Dean was referring to the expression of human emotions.

Castiel coughed to clear his throat as the waitress came to refresh their drinks. Castiel sipped from the glass of water until she disappeared again.

"I don't know."

"Are you, you know, 'falling' again?" Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."

Dean didn't seem satisfied with the answer. How could he not know? "Dude, is there someone you can ask, or a test you can do?"

Castiel could sense a rise in the pressure within him. He answered the question but the buzzing in his head was making him irritable. "I don't know!" He exclaimed in a raised voice which he immediately regretted. He ducked his head and contemplated the grain on the table until the noises in the restaurant went back to normal.

"I really don't, Dean. I don't know." He told him in a hushed whisper.

Several minutes passed. Dean reached to get his wallet to pay for the food. "Whatever, dude." He rose and began walking toward the door. Castiel grabbed the plastic carry bag with the packaged food and raced to catch up with Dean.

The ride back to the motel was silent and sullen. The fragile companionship teetered on the edge of a knife. Castiel was afraid to push it. He looked out the window and watched the waves in the ocean crash on the beach in the dark. It reminded him of the waves of emotions he had been experiencing. Sometimes they were at low tide and they barely registered as soft lapping currents at his feet. Other times, they were nearly violent, pushing his whole body under their weight and making it so hard to breath.

"How do you deal with it, Dean? How can you control all these emotions?" The plaintive question must have caught Dean off-guard because he laughed.

"Copious amounts of alcohol." He told Castiel.

They were silent again until they pulled into the parking lot outside the motel room door. The sounds and smells of the room hadn't changed from the first time they were there. The difference was, now Dean only had the bathroom light to see by. Castiel blushed in embarrassment.

Dean bounced onto the bed fully clothed with his legs outstretched. He crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned back against his hands behind his head. He studied the angel standing in the middle of the room.

"Is it like last time where you need to sleep?" Dean asked.

Castiel remained silent. He didn't know the answer to the question and he didn't want a repeat of the outburst in the restaurant. After a few moments, Dean rose to a sitting position and he stared at Castiel with a nearly predatory intensity.

"Hey, Cas?"

Castiel turned to face Dean. He took in the intense gaze and felt his heart stutter. He swallowed hard before answering. "Yes, Dean." His voice seemed shaky and strained.

"Do you know why Tony came over here?"

Castiel dropped his eyes. His almost imperceptible nod was acknowledged by Dean. He moved from the bed and approached the angel. Castiel dropped his chin to his chest and waited. Dean wasn't harsh, defensive or angry. He did grab Castiel's chin and lifted it so their eyes met. Dean was exceptionally close, their chests nearly touching.

"Ehem, Dean?" Castiel coughed in his nervousness.

"Hmm?" Dean hummed as he got even closer.

Castiel was light-headed and almost hyperventilating. He focused his eyes on Dean's lips because the heat in his eyes was overwhelming. When Castiel saw Dean lick his lips, Castiel went weak in the knees. These emotions were going to kill him. He knew it. He swallowed as Dean chortled at how dumbstruck Castiel had been rendered.

"You were asking me something, Cas." He reminded him.

Oh yeah.

"Um… you don't seem to have a problem with personal space right now?"

Dean laughed and drew Castiel in closer to him. He shook his head and ducked his forehead for a brief rest on Cas' shoulder. "No, Cas." His voice was so raw and passionate, husky and low. "I don't have a problem with personal space, right now."

This was the Dean Winchester that Castiel was interested in seeing. Dean was self-assured and strong. Dean asked why Tony was unacceptable. It was because Tony was unable to pull this Dean from the man Castiel saw just about to submit before the angel arrived asking Tony to leave. There was a tingling tension below his stomach, in his groin. There was an uncomfortable restriction in his slacks he considered adjusting. But, with Dean's mouth so close to his, Castiel lost all other considerations.

He heard the train rumble on the track nearby, but it could have been the pounding of his heart going wild in his chest. He could almost feel the wave of the emotions pulling him under their weight. This emotion, though, he didn't mind drowning in. His breathing was loud in his ears like the rushing of the cars speeding by on the road outside. When their lips met, Castiel heard a sound coming from inside of him that made the woman next door's over-dramatized screams seem like harmonious crescendos to the symphony of overindulgence. Dean responded to the sounds escaping from his mouth by wrapping his strong arms around Castiel's torso.

Castiel leaned on the hunter's muscled chest. He wanted more. His hands held in supplication to Dean as he fingered the fabric of Dean's shirt in much the same way Tony did. But, instead of a demand, it was a prayer. He spoke Dean's name in reverence as a soft exclamation of awe. Dean responded by moving the two of them toward the bed. There were no displays of dominance. Castiel was willing to submit to Dean in all his demands. And Dean's demands were expressed in the warm tongue slipping between eager lips to lick and massage Castiel's; earning for his trouble another expression of faithfulness from Castiel. Dean was a benevolent dictator and his edicts were so very easy to fulfill. He guided Castiel as a dance partner would lead on a ballroom floor. Castiel moved right when Dean guided from the left. He walked backward as Dean asserted pressure forward. He tilted his head back as Dean lowered his seeking mouth down the line of Castiel's jaw to his neck. When he found soft, pliable skin, Dean opened his mouth and bore his teeth in a gentle scrape that elicited pornographic moans from the angel's throat.

Dean was a musician discovering a new found instrument, never before played. He used his hands and mouth to produce the correct chords from Castiel's voice. His deft fingers moved to the angel's shoulders and firm hands ran the dark fabric of his coat down over shoulders, past elbows and wrists to fall with a tympanic drum to the floor. Then, in renewal of the phrase, Dean lifted those fingers to pull at the knot at the angel's neck, loosening the tie to admit Dean better access to the small exposure of skin at the collar of the white dress shirt. The result was an explosive huff of air and a gasp that left Dean smiling against Cas' neck. Dean hummed his pleasure at the delicious noises his partner was making.

Castiel was surprising in his range. He was very expressive. Dean took his time moving the white fabric back away from Castiel's chest. The emotions crashed over Castiel, causing an involuntary shift, rutting against Dean. Dean stepped back to admonish the angel which elicited a whimper of dissatisfaction. When Castiel expressed the contrition Dean desired, he was rewarded with a deep kiss sending shocks of desire down his spine. This in turn evoked another of those deep bass moans. Dean pushed the white fabric down in a repetition of the chorus dropping the shirt from the shoulders, past the elbows and wrists to the floor. Dean stood with his chest against Castiel. Castiel was running completely on instinct. He may have been an instrument to Dean, but Dean was the alter at which Castiel wished to worship.

He dropped to his knees before Dean, looking up with his lust-blown eyes. Dean caressed his fingers through Cas' hair and looked down at him. Cas shifted his gaze as he leaned forward. He lifted his hands to Dean's waist and sought permission from the man with a glance and an audible swallow. He received the benediction through the squeeze of Dean's hand in his hair and the exhalation of a breath from Dean's mouth. Cas reached forward and pulled at the button, setting it free from the hold of denim imprisonment. He fingered the tab and pulled the metal to open the teeth of the zipper. The nimble fingers of the angel pulled the blue denim away from the prize and flattened his hands as he traced the waistline to Dean's hips. He dragged the denim down over his flank and smoothed it past his buttocks. As he glided his hand down Dean's thigh, pushing the fabric down as he went, he stopped at the back of one knee. He felt the scars along the leg, hesitating to trace a finger along the ridge. He took a breath and lifted Dean's knee with care one handed. With the other hand, he pulled off the boot. Then, he tugged the leg of the pant free from Dean's foot. When he put the foot down, he administered the same treatment to the other leg.

When Castiel looked back up to Dean to receive the approval of his hunter, Dean laughed. The laughter was unexpected, but Castiel saw that it reached his eyes. Dean stretched down to the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head to throw it on the bed. Castiel was confused by the sudden humor, but he could still feel the want, the desire, the lust as he looked at Dean standing in front of him with only briefs and socks to clad him. Maybe, that is what Dean found humorous. Castiel felt a smile grace his face and he blushed, looking down and ending his gaze in front of him. The joy in the laughter died down, but when Castiel looked back up to Dean, he saw that none of the humor fled from his eyes. Castiel leaned forward to press his forehead against Dean's waist and closed his eyes. He inhaled a deep breath, finding the scent of Dean heady. The groan from above him caused him to raise his eyes in hopeful adoration of the man.

"Come on, Cas." Dean breathed. He wrapped his hands in Cas' hair again. Cas took this as the go ahead.

Castiel pressed forward with timid caress of his nose through the fabric of the undergarment. Castiel could smell and feel the wet from pre-cum. He reached up to place a ginger bite on the band of the underwear and pull it down over the erection Dean was sporting. Castiel could hear an exhalation stutter from Dean's mouth as well as a whispered exclamation.

When Castiel pulled the underwear down to below Dean's scrotum, he released it with his teeth and used his hands to guide them down. At the same time he looked up to Dean. His head was thrown back in ecstasy.

"Don't blaspheme, Dean." Castiel admonished.

"Huh?" Dean croaked as he looked back down at his angel.

"Just now… you spoke the name of my Father." Castiel grimaced. "While I don't believe He can hear our prayers any longer, I would prefer you didn't call His attention to what we are doing right now."

Dean blinked at Castiel and he grinned. "Noted. Can you, please, just get on with what you were doing without any further interruptions?"

Castiel licked his lips and nodded. "Certainly." He said with a smile.

When he licked the underside of Dean's shaft, Dean's knees buckled. Castiel moved forward with his fall backward onto the bed. Castiel lifted up slightly to receive instruction from Dean. Dean looked at Cas and moved back onto the bed. He motioned his hands for Cas to join him. Castiel slunk up the bed past Dean's ankles and sliding his hands on the bed under his calves, pulling them over his shoulders. Dean scrunched up his face at Cas, and the angel stopped and waited. Dean gripped his own shaft to finger a light stroke near the head. Castiel's disapproval of the action shone in his expression.

"Well, get up here if you don't like it." Castiel closed the distance and nosed Dean's hands away. He shifted to get comfortable with Dean's heels touching Cas' shoulder blades. Cas wet his lips before taking the first experimental taste of the head of Dean's erection. The sound that Dean emitted may have over-ridden any further hesitancy that Castiel seemed to feel. He engulfed as much of the length as he could and licked the skin that laid upon his tongue.

"Oh fuck!"

Dean's grip in Cas' hair was no longer soft and petting. He gripped a chunk of the dark strands in a firm fist and Cas moaned against the dick in his mouth. It was like a causality loop. The more Cas moaned and licked and sucked, the more Dean pulled and gripped and moaned, which caused the pleasure spiking through Castiel resulting in more moaning, licking and sucking. Soon, Dean was also thrusting. Cas tried to avoid gagging as the engorged tip of Dean's head scraped the back of Cas' throat, so he swallowed and gulped, pulling his tongue back against the underside of Dean's dick in a whole new level of pleasuring. The exclamations of sounds without meaning became louder and more rapid. Dean pulled his knees closer together and pushed down his heels as his climax approached. Castiel was excited by the tension he felt running through Dean in the expressions of his body. Castiel began stroking the soft sack under his chin and Dean screamed. Castiel felt his mouth tighten against the shaft as he smiled. He repeated the touch that sent such pleasure to Dean, reaching lower to finger between his cheeks as well. The thrusting and rutting became more intense and the tension in Dean's body doubled. A quick glance at Dean's face elicited a thrill of happiness and frenzy when he saw the mask of pleasure. Suddenly, the thrusts became more urgent and Castiel experienced the warm ejaculate as it erupted from Dean. Castiel tried to swallow most of what came, but a fair amount escaped down his chin and neck.

Dean relaxed and fell to lie back completely on the bed. His legs untangled from Cas and Dean reached out his hand to pull his partner up toward him. When Cas came all the way up to the pillow where Dean was panting and sweating, Dean looked at him and managed a weak laugh.

"Eew. Dude." Dean reached over to pull over his shirt. He used it to wipe Cas' mouth, neck and chest. He threw the offending garment on the floor. He reached over and handed Cas the lukewarm bottle of El Sol. Cas drank it and washed the flavor of Dean's cum from his mouth.

"Was I not meant to swallow it?" Cas asked.

Dean huffed a chuckle but his eyes were closed and his head was resting against the pillow. His panting was calming down to a fast but steady breath. He shook his head. "It's fine. It was great. You did great."

He pulled Cas to embrace him and kiss his head.

"Give me a minute and I'll help with yours." Dean told him.

Castiel nuzzled into Dean's side as the hunter's arm encircled him. He looked down at his own, still clothed legs. It felt pleasant leaning his naked torso against the warmth of Dean. The smell of sex and beer filled the space more than the stagnant odor of old cigarettes the way it had. Cas was content. He still felt the ache between his legs of an unresolved erection, but he didn't mind. He was happy to be with Dean. Dean- who was sated, fed, and thinking of things besides the misery of their lives. He heard the smoothing out of Dean's breathing and the soft snores.

Dean—who had just fallen asleep and left him unsatisfied.

Castiel chuckled and sighed. He waited a few more minutes before removing himself from the entangled body parts. He stood up and stretched. He rubbed his sore jaw and looked around. The room was a mess. He began picking up articles of clothing as silent as a thief. He piled their clothing near the door to the bathroom. He collected empty and nearly empty beer bottles and cans, placing them in the trash cans. He put the food in the small refrigerator under the bathroom sink. He looked around for something else to do when he heard the sound of Dean's ringtone. It was in the pocket of Dean pants and he grabbed the jeans and moved into the bathroom, closed the door and pulled the phone out of his pocket. The muffled sound of guitars stopped when Cas pushed the green button to talk.

"Dean?"

Castiel recognized the voice on the other end. "No." Cas replied.

"Oh, you're.. uh the… guy."

"Castiel. Yes." Cas felt all the happiness he had experienced over the last hour or so siphoning away.

"Oh."

"You're Tony." Castiel wasn't entirely sure about the etiquette in situations like these.

"Uh, yeah."

Silence.

"Tony, I want to thank you."

Tony sounded dumbfounded. "Uh, okay? Why?"

Castiel took a deep breath. He fidgeted. Angels never fidget, but Castiel felt the need to do so now. "I… Dean has had a very hard year… more than a year actually…"

Castiel could hear Tony breathing on the other end of the line. Castiel let him digest this while he determined what to say next.

"Anyway, I haven't seen him laugh or smile, the way he did with you, in a very long time. You helped him… relax… forget, for a while anyway. So, thank you."

There was silence again, but Castiel didn't feel the need to add more.

"Casteel?"

"Castiel."

"Okay, Castiel. I was just hanging out with Dean because I saw a guy I wanted to get to know. Clearly, if I'd known he had a boyfriend…"

"I'm not his boyfriend." Castiel interjected.

Castiel heard Tony guffaw over the line. "Yeah, okay. I don't know who else would have acted the way you did except someone with an emotional investment."

Castiel considered this. "So, a boyfriend is one who has an emotional investment in someone else?"

The incredulity was clear in Tony's tone. "Typically, yeah."

Castiel absorbed this new information. "Thank you for the information."

Tony started laughing. "Are you autistic?"

Castiel regarded his reflection in the mirror. "Not to my knowledge."

"Okay. Look, I was just calling to make sure Dean was okay. You can be a scary little dude when someone is traipsing through your territory."

"Dean is asleep right now. I will give him your message when he awakens."

Tony huffed a breath into the phone. "Nah, it's probably better to avoid the drama. Just, if he's had such a rough year that his boyfriend is telling me thanks for making him smile, maybe you should work on that."

Castiel sighed and sat on the closed toilet lid. "Until tonight, I had no idea I would be able to make him smile again. I did before… I made him smile, but then… I betrayed him… I have much to atone for."

"TMI, dude. Look, just so you know… Dean seems like the kind of guy with a huge heart. Also, it's ten o'clock in the morning. You guys… go enjoy the beach, go to a club, go see Disneyworld, and while you're at it, decide what kind of relationship you have… because I don't want you giving the next guy a heart attack when you walk in on them."

"You have given me much to think about, Tony. You…" Castiel heard his name called from the other room. "Dean is awake. Would you like to speak to him?"

Tony chuckled again. "No, Castiel. Go take care of Dean."

At that, Tony hung up.

Castiel rose and walked out of the bathroom throwing Dean's pants back onto the pile of clothing and putting the phone into his pocket. He walked into the room with Dean facing away from him.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel said with a slight smile.

Dean turned around and the relief on his face ran right over Castiel like a lapping little tidepool over his feet. His smile grew. Dean looked him up and down before walking over to him. He seemed nervous though Castiel couldn't figure out why.

"Where'd you go?" Dean asked as he inched closer to Castiel.

Cas just turned his body in the direction from whence he came and arched an eyebrow up.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, but you're an angel. Just because you came from that direction doesn't really mean anything."

Castiel closed the distance between them and pressed his half clothed body against Dean's naked one and wrapped his arms around the hunter under his arms. Dean leaned down and kissed Castiel. He moved the kisses from Cas' temple to his eyelids, to the tip of his nose, down to the corner of his mouth, and then he pressed his lips to Castiel's lips. Cas opened his mouth to allow a gasp to escape. When he did, Dean used the opportunity to show Castiel how pleased he was to see him.

"I don't want to get dressed yet." He breathed against the angel's lips.

Castiel looked in the direction of the bed. Dean turned to look in that direction as well. His face lit up in surprise. "Oh, look!" He ran and pounced on the bed. "There's a bed in this room!"

Dean patted the bed next to him. Castiel walked over to stand near him and Dean inched his body to the edge. He sat with his legs dangling and Castiel strode to position himself between them. Dean placed his hands on either hip and looked up into his angel's eyes. Castiel pet through Dean's hair with his hands, scratching Dean's scalp with blunt fingernails until Dean's eyes rolled close in contentment.

Dean seemed to lean into the treatment in silence at first but then he growled at Castiel, surprising him, and then rolling Cas with his strong arms onto the bed with him. Dean climbed on top of Cas and pinned him with his forearms to the bed. Castiel didn't struggle. As in the night, he was more than willing to submit. The look of longing that Castiel gave to Dean prompted the hunter to press open-mouth kissed down Cas' chest. Cas arched his back, pushing his body as close to those warm, wet kisses as he could. Dean chuckled above him.

"Dude, you are such a cat." Dean laughed at him.

Castiel looked askance at him. "I'm an angel." He said with utter seriousness.

This caused Dean to laugh so hard he folded onto Castiel with his body flush to the angel's. Dean rested his forehead against Cas' collarbone. When he rose from his fit of laughter, he still managed to release a couple of chuckles.

"No, Cas… Nevermind." Dean leaned over to fall onto his side, propping his head up onto his hand his elbow resting near Cas' head on the pillow. With his other hand he trailed a line of feather soft touches from Cas' neck by his ear down the side of his lateral muscles, to his waistband and across and up the other side. Castiel sucked in a breath and his eyes dilated until very little of the blue was showing.

"You like that?" Dean whispered a growl in Cas' ear. Cas nodded his head with the urgency he felt, his eyes never leaving Dean's face.

Dean leaned over to Cas and claimed his mouth with his own, licking into his mouth and sending shivers of desire down Cas' whole body with just the enjoyment of the kissing. Cas had closed his eyes and caressed Dean's face with his hand while they were tasting each other in their kisses. While Cas was intent on Dean's mouth, Dean was multi-tasking. He reached his hand down Cas' side, trailing a path of sensation to Cas' waistband. He slid the clasp open and dragged the zipper down. Cas moaned as he felt Dean's knuckles drag against his erection. Cas resisted the desire to thrust forward remembering Dean's chastisement from last night. So, he lie on the bed with his eyes clenched shut and overcome with frantic panting. He was rewarded with his restraint as Dean pulled the black slacks down while Cas hissed through his body's reactions. Dean seemed to delight in the control Cas granted him. When Cas' pants were down to his knees, Dean began working his underwear down over his erection. He had only just released Cas' dick when he decided that was good enough. He drew soft touches up and down Cas' shaft. Cas wasn't able to continue kissing Dean as they had been. He was panting and fisting is hands into the sheets to restrain himself.

Dean looked at the mess he was making of this angel in his bed. His eyes dialated in delight and he licked his smiling lips. Cas cracked his eyes open to regard his tormenter through his panting. Dean began playing with him, stroking his fingers over Cas' abdomen. Cas bore this treatment with a minimum of wiggling. When Cas would move, Dean would voice his command that Cas should remain still until he was told otherwise. Dean showed his surprise in his expressions.

"Cas, you are a friggen angel of the lord. You know, phenomenal cosmic powers and everything… but with one little stroke of this hand… " Dean moved his fist over the head of Cas' penis, "And you melt all over."

Dean bit soft flesh at the side of Cas' neck and sucked a dark bruise into existence. Cas moved and groaned.

"Ah ah. No moving, Cas. Until I tell you. Understand?" Dean's grin got bigger when Castiel nodded and stopped moving. Cas' blue eyes were glued to Dean's face. This, too, caused him great pleasure. Castiel had gained tremendous pleasure from watching Dean completely let go last night because of his ministrations. Watching Dean delight in the things he did to Castiel also brought pleasure.

There was a mischievous glint in Dean's eyes as he scanned the rom for things he might use to make Castiel squirm. A 'lightbulb' went off as Dean twitched his nose and his eyes lit up.

"Stay right here. Just like that, Cas. Okay?" Dean said as he got up to get the item in his idea.

"Yes, Dean." Cas spoke and Dean stopped where he stood in the middle of the room. He turned to see Cas smirk at him. Dean groaned in indecision.

He looked toward the angel on the bed for several seconds and then back to the bathroom. He made a decision, though and continued to the bathroom sink. Under it was the refrigerator where Cas had placed the food from last night. He pulled out a container and then moved to his duffle and pulled his shaving kit. He pulled several items from the bag and ran back to the bed with his bounty. He dumped the items on the bed and began pulling the pants and underwear down and all the way off of Cas' body.

He looked at Castiel and drew himself up to the head of the bed to pull him into a long and ardent kiss. Dean climbed over Cas and lay on top of him. He was smiling at Cas as he could tell this was torture for him.

"Okay, Cas… you can move. But you gotta stop when I say."

"Yes, Dean." Cas began rutting into Dean's body with a throaty cry, pressing his hard-on up into whatever part of Dean could elicit that delicious friction. Castiel was feeling the shock-waves of pressure and pleasure. Dean was equally delighting in the motions of Castiel. Dean gritted his teeth as he felt it was getting too close, and he wanted it to last.

"S-s-stop, Cas." Dean stuttered. Dean didn't stop though. He continued to thrust and he listened to Castiel whimper as he tried to control his own body.

Dean slid off of Cas and tried to refrain from crying out in frustration. They were both panting and shaking.

"Okay, I have to remember that particular exercise is painful." Dean panted through clenched teeth.

Castiel nodded his head in earnest. He remained still on the bed and kept his hands away from the part that desperately wanted to be touched. He whimpered and his intense blue eyes concentrated on Dean. Dean shrugged off the quakes of sensations that were still affecting him in waves. He reached over to the Biggerton's container and opened it with a grin to Cas.

"Banana crème pie, Cas." Dean stuck his fingers in and pulled them out with a dollop of yellowy custard clinging. Castiel's eyes zeroed in on the custard and watched as Dean lifted his fingers to his mouth. He stopped when he saw the intensity of Cas' stare. He moved the laden fingers to his left, and clear blue lust-blown eyes followed them. Dean smirked at this new level of control that he discovered.

"Bananas are really the only _acceptable_ fruit. They aren't really all that fruity, I guess. Don't tell Sam I said I liked any fruit. I'll never hear the end of it." Dean put his fingers into his mouth and sucked. Dean noticed Cas' breathing pick up its pace again and his eyes were nearly black with desire. He leaned down and placed soft kisses onto Cas' mouth. He could taste the flavor of the banana and whipped cream on Dean's tongue. Cas moaned his pleasure to Dean. Dean responded by turning slightly to fetch some more pie filling onto his fingers. He hesitated before bringing his fingers to Cas' mouth for him to have a taste. The feeling of Cas' tongue licking the filling from between Dean's fingers and along the digits reminded Dean of last night's entertainment. Dean began to pant and Cas noticed the hardening of his penis as well as the dilation of his eyes. It caused Castiel to smirk in response. He apparently remembered, too.

Dean scooped some more from the container and instead of putting it in either of their mouths, he smeared a bit down the shaft of Castiel hardened erection. Cas threw his head back and groaned loudly. His eyes were closed and his mouth open breathing heavy exhalations mixed with vocalizations. Dean watched in fascination. He leaned down to lick some of the banana custard from Castiel. Cas gasped out a series of vowel sounds as if he were in pain. Dean wondered for a moment if he was.

Dean watched the lovely power he had over Castiel with each touch of his tongue on Cas. It was exciting knowing this powerful creature under him could kill him with a thought, and yet it was Dean and some custard pie filling that would make him meet his end in a wet, gooey mess—just not the same kind of end. Dean smirked.

"Hey, Cas?"

Cas dragged his consciousness back to the world where Dean held him in sway. He tried to focus his hazy lust clouded brain on the hunter, but was failing epically.

"Ca-as…" Dean smiled against the angel's stomach as he made his way toward those full lips. "We have so many other things to try. You gotta stay with me, buddy." Dean taunted.

Castiel nodded his head and swallowed the thick sensation in his throat. He tried to make any intelligible sound but every time he tried, Dean was licking his navel or kissing and biting his tender side. Dean found the whole idea that Cas was unable to speak greatly amusing. When Cas' head had cleared a bit because Dean was leaving him alone for the moment. Castiel nodded again and spoke with a harsh and gravelly two words sending sparks right down Dean's nervous system.

"Yes, Dean."

Until he was called to his grave, (for real and final time), Dean will always count those two words as the number one seduction line that will forever make him weak in the knees. Dean's hand fluttered in response. He decided that he was going to try something else now as well. He reached into his pile of items and pulled a bottle of warming lubricant. It was one he had walked away with on accident one night and he refused to use it. He didn't like the idea of anything getting hot near or on his junk. He squeezed a bit of the liquid onto his fingers. The warming didn't seem to do much to his fingers but he knew they weren't as sensitive as other parts. Castiel was allowing a good amount of experimentation here, so he thought he would tolerate this even if it caused discomfort.

He looked at the angel. He was looking directly at him with trust and faith in his eyes. Well, shit.

"Hey, Cas. This stuff is usually a chick thing… it might be uncomfortable. Still okay with me trying?" Dean looked at Cas before he did anything. Cas smiled and his eyes became lidded before he spoke in a ragged whisper.

"Yes, Dean."

Dean reached his face up to Cas for a quick kiss and then he settled down and gripped Cas' dick and sent one long stroke down with his fingers and palm lubricated with the chicky lube. The response was immediate. Castiel exhaled a shuttering breath that ended in a whispered "fuck". Dean exploded with a loud laugh which frightened Castiel. When Cas realized why Dean had suddenly had a detonation of jollity, he blushed and ducked his head.

"Oh, no you don't!" Dean said. "That was the most human I think I've ever heard you."

Castiel nodded and smiled in response. Dean watched again as another stroke of his fist elicited a similar but more subdued response. When he reached the bottom of the next stroke, Dean's hand continued down to smooth his palm over Cas' scrotum. He felt the pulling up of the fragile sack and watched it in fascination, listening to Cas' sounds of pleasure. The angel was practically speaking Enochian. Dean poured more of the liquid on his hand and he went even further. He had never done this to someone; even the more adventurous of his partners were reluctant to trust a one-night stand with this level of intimacy. He moved to slide his hand up the rounded seat of Cas' buttocks and through the cleft to discover the hole. He traced his fingers around the opening and watched the muscles' response to the teasing. Castiel was shaking from the effort to restrict his body's reaction. Dean looked at his face to be met with those eyes again. Cas was biting hard on his bottom lip and his chest was heaving. Dean smirked at him and without losing eye-contact, he pushed two fingers in the warmth of Cas' body. Cas arched upward and he panted a loud exclamation that sounded vaguely like Dean's name. He seemed to enjoy the sensation, so Dean thrust in and then out a couple of times to be met with a slightly less dynamic response but it was still worth the price of admission. When Cas was relaxed enough around Dean's fingers and he was able to endure the treatment and still maintain eye-contact, Dean added a third finger when he pulled the stroke out. Cas flung himself hard against the pillow and muffled his voice with his lip bleeding red between his teeth. Dean was concerned about the development, hoping Cas wasn't in any real pain. He moved up and adjusted his fingers to accommodate his body's movement. Castiel screamed out and grabbed at Dean when he did. The look on the angel's face was pure devotion and desire. Cas leaned forward to capture Dean's lips with his mouth. He whimpered and ground against him, finally losing control. Cas reached to Dean's hardened member and began to stroke him while Dean continued to thrust his fingers inside of Cas. Finally, Dean felt he had enough with play-time and jumped up and onto Castiel's body. He lifted Cas' hips and parted the cheeks so he had better access to Cas' entrance. He moved Cas' hand away from his penis and he gripped it briefly in order to line himself up with the hole. He thrust as soon as he felt the head touch the opening. He buried himself as far in as he could comfortably go and not needlessly harm his partner. Castiel screamed out loud and growled as he bucked against Dean.

Dean began to thrust and pull, holding his hands against Cas' hips, lifting as he pushed his own hip forward. Cas wrapped his legs around Dean as much as he could but kept losing his grip as shockwave after shockwave sent a tremor of uncontrollable frenzy through him. They were wild and there was no kind of rhythm or elegance to what they were doing. It was all instinct and sex drive. Finally, the pooling tension allowed them both to slow it down slightly and they looked into each other's eyes. Castiel took an even breath and held himself aloft so Dean could focus on a controlled cadence. He felt the need to reach out to Castiel and gripped his dick in his fist, to stroke in time with the thrusting. When he came close to his peak, the wild took over Dean again and he could only thrust. So, Castiel took over the stroking of his own erection. Their muffled and strained voices mixed together as they achieved their ends. Castiel erupted all over their chests and stomachs. Dean climaxed inside of Castiel when Cas' tightened muscles gripped him harder.

As the high of the endorphins saturated their brains, they collapsed against each other. Their voices were scratchy and ragged, but they didn't need to say a word to one another. They closed their eyes and tried to bring the rapid breaths and roaring heartbeats to heel. They fell asleep curled against each other.

When Castiel woke up, it was full dark. He didn't move from his position resting his cheek against Dean's chest. He felt his head rise and fall with the hunter's steady breaths. Cas wrinkled his nose at the smells he experienced, but he was warm and content to remain. He felt a tentative brush of fingers against his back. He felt goose bumps rise on his skin. His lips curled into a smile and he turned his face into the strong abs of his… boyfriend? It seemed an absurd word to describe what they had between them. He wasn't all that hung up on labels, but humans were hard-wired to categorize and sort people, things, events into pre-labeled packages. Cas rubbed his face against Dean's skin kissing him and lifted his face to peer at him.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean closed his eyes and chuckled at Cas. He inhaled deeply and wrinkled his nose. "Shower, Cas. Now. You reek, dude."

"Me? We have been rubbing each other and poking each other for nearly two days! We _both_ reek."

Dean just laughed at that. He closed his eyes and relaxed his head back. Castiel leaned his head back down on Dean's chest. The rise and fall of Dean's breathing was relaxing and meditative. He could hear the thumping bellows of his strong heart and lungs. He felt himself drifting into bliss… even this long after the activity. He smiled again. He was happy.

The thought immediately sobered him. He wasn't meant to be happy. He was meant to redeem himself and help the Winchesters. He wasn't meant to be rewarded with happiness for his betrayal.

He rose from the warm nest and moved toward the bathroom.

"Where're you going?" came Dean's plaintive call when Cas moved away from him.

Cas looked at him as if he grew another head and looked toward the bathroom. Dean's eyes followed the direction Cas indicated. "Yeah, well, don't go flitting off without telling me you're leaving."

Dean sounded defensive. Tony's instructions came to mind. "_If he's had such a rough year that his boyfriend is telling me thanks for making him smile, maybe you should work on that_."

Castiel returned to the bed and gripped Dean's chin to turn his face towards him. The touch surprised Dean as did the intensity of the blue eyes that captivated him. "I'm not leaving until you send me away, Dean. I love you and I will remind you why you counted me a friend in the first place." Castiel sat on the edge of the bed. "I screwed up. I did regrettable things. It doesn't matter anymore that my intentions were pure. The result is what matters. I screwed up…" A gasping sob escaped Castiel as he bowed his head. "I don't deserve your forgiveness…" He sobbed more violently.

Dean wrapped his angel within the protective circle of his arms. He rocked him softly and inhaled the scent from his hair. His angel was alive, in his arms, after a night of sensual pleasure. He'd send God a fruit basket in the morning if he could. He could deal with the regrets and the recriminations later. He had shit to do. "Cas… come on man… I need you to shower and then come back in here. I'll… go find some clothes for you to wear, but you gotta promise you won't leave, okay?"

Cas wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. He smirked up at Dean with watery eyes. "Yes, Dean."

Dean shook his head with laughter bubbling in his chest. "Friggen angel. Go. Now!"

Castiel rose and moved into the bathroom. He watched as Cas walked kinda funny. He smirked to himself and then pulled a hand down his face. He had no idea what he was going to do with Castiel, angel of Thursdays on a Saturday morning after having sex all day Friday.

When Dean got back from the errands he ran, he realized just how bad he smelled. Just being in a room that smelled of cigarettes was, apparently, enough to make all your clothes smell like cigarettes. Also, he had the stink of sex, banana crème pie that had been out all night, and El Sol beer all over him. He managed to find a "24-hour, Super-Whatever you wanna buy, we got it cheap" store in town. He managed to buy some dark slacks and jeans in Castiel's size. He bought a few t-shirts and two button down shirts, a package of socks, a package of underwear, a pre-paid phone, a duffle bag, shaving cream, a package of disposable razors, a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, brush, non-warming lube, condoms, and a pair of boots. He also bought a large box of protein bars, some sodas, bottled waters, and bing bongs. He stopped at the donut shop to pick up a dozen variety donuts and two black coffees. He grabbed up a bunch of sugar and cream packets in case Cas wanted them.

He was grumpy when he returned to the room because in his preoccupation with getting a starter hunter kit for Cas, he sort of forgot to watch out for cameras. And he lost his phone, so he picked up another one.

He walked into the room and found Castiel sitting naked and still on the edge of the bed with a patient half-smile on his face. Dean stood for a moment to really absorb what he was seeing. Cas was gorgeous. And he followed instructions. All other thoughts flew out the window. Good angel.

Dean cleared his throat and entered with the duffle slung over his shoulder and a pink box of donuts with a carrier containing the coffee perched on top. Castiel went to Dean to help relieve him of his burden. Dean smiled at the sight of naked angel meeting him at the door.

"Jeez, Cas. Let me close the door before you traumatize someone." Cas looked up at Dean, saw the glint of mischief and realized he was being teased.

"Let 'em look," he responded. "We can charge admission."

Dean blinked in shock. "Dude! You just made a comeback. Good job."

He handed the duffle to Cas. "All the things a growing angel slash hunter needs."

Cas began digging through the duffle and realized there were more than just a change of clothes in there. He turned to look at the back of the retreating hunter as he entered the bathroom. Castiel heard his voice through the closed door. "You better have saved some hot water for me."

When Dean emerged, clean, shaved, and hair brushed, Cas stared at him.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Am I your boyfriend?"

Dean stared at Cas with his mouth open and closing like a fish and his eyes wide and incredulous. Dean regarded Castiel for a moment before responding. "I don't know."

Castiel nodded and pulled on his new boots. He was tying them when Dean came over to sit next to him on the bed. He was just staring into space when Cas looked into his eyes.

"I have another question." Cas admitted.

Dean visibly winced. Cas ignored it. "When do we do laundry?"

Cas was sitting in the truck when Dean climbed in. "All the stuff is loaded. I sent some acid down the drains to kill any DNA. Did a full sweep so we didn't leave anything behind…" He looked over at Castiel. "Ready?"

Castiel nodded and handed a phone to Dean. Dean looked at it. "Oh, good. Thought I lost it!" He threw it in the cup holder and started the ignition.

"Where are we going?"

Dean thought about it. "Maybe we'll go to California."

Castiel considered all the possible motivations for the trip across the country. "Dick Roman?"

Dean stopped at the driveway before moving into traffic. He turned to look at Castiel seriously. "If you want out, this is a good place to go."

Castiel turned a hard gaze at Dean. He remembered the look from when they were still learning about each other and Cas saw everything as more or less a pissing match. "I'm not leaving."

"Well, all right then." Dean said and pulled onto the road.

**A/N:** This is the end of Part I. I have an idea for part II, but I haven't outlined it or anything. If I'm on your author alert list, you'll get it. I don't know when it will be out.

Did I do okay? I worried a little about the PoV change from Cas to Dean in a couple of places. You get why, right? Dean can be so fun to write when he's in a good mood.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I am incredibly overwhelmed with how well this was received by you, the wonderful readers. I think this story has gotten more "foot traffic" than any of my other endeavors and the number of favs/alerts… WOW! Just… WOW! Thank you! Hubby thinks we are all deprived… or was it depraved. I don't really care. I love these guys together. So nyah. XP

**Disclaimers:** This is a transformative work of fiction based on Eric Kripke's, Supernatural, and is not meant for profit. (Destiel Destiel Destiel!). No harm or infringement is intentional. This is rated with a Hard R for smut and sex between consenting male adults as well as a couple cases of language, adult themes and,*spoiler* in one case, an exposure of sweet angel to illegal drug and gambling.

**Spoilers:** Friends, if you haven't made it to the end of Season 6 or seen season 7 and don't want any spoilers, don't read this. In canon, Dean is completely straight (or so he claims), so he will be out of character in this way. Castiel is, typically, non-emotive in canon. The plot of this story does (eventually) deal with his expressive displays. Otherwise, I tried to keep them as close to character as possible.

**Rating:** Last chance… R, Really… not PG-13 with hopes toward R… this is R.

**Upon My Knees, Do I Repent**

Part II

The Dodge truck was drafty. That was the thought that preoccupied Castiel's mind most of the trip north and west. They had been driving for nearly seven hours without a stop and the truck was a lot slower than the Impala had been. There were strange trees with roots bared above water level, twisting and verdant on both sides of the highway. It was a weird kind of beautiful, Spanish moss hanging down from the canopy like warped party streamers. There was a suffocating moisture in the air that did nothing to modify the heat. And the air conditioning didn't work.

Castiel supposed that was the biggest contributing factor to Dean's mood.

They had remained silent since East Beach. The radio stations had been changed three different times and the volume had been too loud to accommodate a conversation anyway. Castiel remembered that this was a common way for Dean to avoid uncomfortable topics and he was willing to acquiesce to the hunter's wishes in this. The black clouds that seemed to perpetually hang over Dean were a warning to Castiel to remain silent and keep his observations or conclusions to himself. Otherwise, he may not be able to weather the storm of Dean's outburst… or worse, lack of expression. So, Castiel remained silent.

When they had passed between where the radio reception from Jacksonville was waning but they still weren't able to pick up the stations from Tallahassee, the radio produced more static than actual music so Dean turned it all the way off. The only sound was the rush of air over the partly lowered windows, the rumble of the engine and the rhythmic staccato of tires hitting concrete seams at regular intervals. The hunter kept his unflinching regard on the stretch of highway ahead of them and seemed adamant in his refusal to acknowledge his passenger.

Castiel noticed the highway marker and pulled open a portion of the map to check where they were and determine how far they still had before they changed direction. This form of travel was frustrating and limited. But, he was able to calculate how many miles until the exchange without difficulty.

He peered over to the dashboard and did the math to determine how long it would be until they reached the interchange in his head. The sigh he produced seemed to have reminded Dean he was there. Castiel guessed that was a bad thing if the whitening in Dean's knuckles as he gripped harder on the steering wheel and the clenching of his jaw were adequate indicators. Castiel felt his insides go cold that had nothing to do with the air outside. He turned his eyes away from the road and focused his entire attention on the surrealist landscape speeding by.

He wasn't sure what he did to aggravate Dean. Dean had asked him to stay, so he stayed. He had asked Castiel to not "fly away when things got a little boring", so Castiel remained. He had submitted in all things since returning to Dean, and it was the wrong thing to do if Dean's behavior was a sign. It never occurred to him that there were other things outside of who was, or wasn't, riding in the passenger seat causing Dean's reaction.

The sudden slowing and pulling off of the highway took Castiel by surprise. He looked around at the lack of anything resembling true civilization and tried to anticipate what had caused the unforeseen change in plan. Dean seemed to drive around aimlessly, but his eyes darting and craning his neck to see over obstacles and into metal sheds indicated to Castiel that there was purpose to this detour. Castiel remained quiet and tried to keep out of Dean's way as he looked out through the passenger side of the truck.

They were cruising through a rural area with destitute appearing metal-sided trailers and run-down traditional-framed structures. There were very few people to be seen; either the heat or their work schedules kept them indoors or away from their domiciles… such as they were. There were cars parked in rows in front yards; some looked to be on blocks, some under tarps, others gutted for parts. Many of the meager yards seemed to also be home to several kinds of livestock. Chickens roamed the dirt tracks on which they drove, horses and cattle stood in pens behind the structures. There were dogs running along chain link or rebar fences in response to the perceived trespassing of the truck rumbling by.

Finally, Dean seemed to have found what he was looking for. He pulled around a dirt road through a kind of alley to circle back and park in front of an old metal shed. He hid the vehicle as he watched to see if there were any people around that might observe him. He looked as if whipped to activity by some invisible motivation Castiel was unable to fathom. He began pulling their belongings out from under the bedcover of the truck, placing them on the dirt at his feet. Castiel moved around to the back of the truck to offer assistance, but Dean didn't give any orders. The angel stood watching, feeling helpless and useless until Dean turned to look at him.

"Here…" Dean handed him the key to the truck. Dean had explained how the truck's owner lost the vehicle because of stupidity. 'Never leave the keys in the ignition, Cas,' he had said.

Castiel looked at the key and then back to the hunter who was now emptying behind the seats in the cab.

"What am I meant to do with this?" Castiel held the key out as if Dean wouldn't have known to what he referenced.

"You need to follow me in the truck so we can ditch it." Dean replied.

"Drive?" Castiel's voice hit an octave higher than his normal speaking voice and it seemed to come louder in volume as well. "Me?"

Dean rushed to Castiel's side and shushed him. "Look, if I could drive two vehicles at the same time, I would. I need your help. I usually just pull up to a car and transfer stuff out, but…"

Those four words drove Castiel as nothing else might have. _I need your help._ Castiel nodded and waited for Dean to move out of the way before sliding behind the steering wheel. He looked at the ignition for a long few minutes before he turned to ask Dean a question regarding the mechanics of driving. He had never done this before, but he was smart. He could figure it out. He watched Dean and Sam drive plenty of times. When he looked, he discovered that Dean was gone.

It had often perplexed Castiel, after he had disappeared with a flutter of ethereal wings in the past, how Dean and Sam would be so cross with him. It hadn't occurred to him that the hunter might miss him or that he would even note Castiel's leaving. The panic that descended on the angel now made all those times Dean had admonished him for vanishing make so much more sense. He was now able to empathize with the feelings of Dean, and even Sam, when they showed their annoyance at him for "just disappearing without a word".

He sat there for ten minutes. He could feel the fear and worry growing inside him as he waited. He just couldn't understand where Dean went or how long he would be. As time ticked away, Castiel found it harder and harder to just sit. He climbed down from the cab of the truck and began pacing along the side of the road. His breathing was quick and he had to wipe sweat from his palms down his jean-clad thighs.

He heard an engine approaching and he bent down to keep from being seen. He watched as the car slowed near where he stood waiting and then stopped behind the tailgate of the truck. When Castiel lifted his head to see what the driver of the car was doing, he breathed a sigh of relief to see Dean climb out of the still-running car.

Dean moved toward the rear of the car to open the trunk. Castiel took the cue and began lifting their things to be placed there. They moved back and forth until everything was just about stowed when Dean motioned for him to get into the truck.

Castiel didn't have too much difficulty turning the engine on or putting the truck in gear. It was the moving his feet with the right amount of pressure to encourage the truck forward while simultaneously watching the road and steering the vehicle that caused him anxiety. Castiel made the truck lunge and sputter as he tried to accelerate and then brake at the same time. Dean drove the car around the truck and headed toward the end of the street to wait.

Castiel was upset at his inability to replicate the smooth transition from "stop" to "movement" that the Winchesters seemed to do with such ease. The truck lurched to a skidding halt. The full stop was followed by the revving keen of the engine with too much accelerator pressure. This was followed again by a dramatic spray of gravel and dirt kicked up by the tires when Castiel overcompensated with a hard slamming of the brakes. Eventually, after much repetition of start and stop, Castiel met Dean at the end of the road. He observed Dean shaking his head with a tremendous grin.

Castiel ducked his head in embarrassment as he turned the truck to follow Dean to the left. When he got onto the road this time, it was easier to adjust the acceleration since the road was straight, paved and he was beginning to anticipate the pressure needed for the correct speed. The steering wasn't as traumatic either without any left or right adjustments.

When he caught up to Dean this time, the braking became problematic. When he pressed the brake with his foot, he had not applied enough pressure and Castiel was afraid he might slam into the car, Dean or a nearby tree. He panicked with a hard jerk of his knee, straightening it until the brake pedal was completely depressed, flinging himself forward and nearly choking himself with the seatbelt across his front. He growled in frustration and at his own body's reactions. The stinging in his eyes wasn't making things easier.

He turned the vehicle again to follow down another dirt track off the main road and was relieved to see Dean getting out of the car a little ways away under a tree. Castiel maneuvered with extreme caution to avoid hitting any trees or Dean as he brought the truck to rest. He put the truck's gear in "park" and with shaking hands and ragged breath opened the door to get out. He was met with firm arms around him which he accepted with relief. He buried his face into Dean and allowed himself a few of the tears that threatened to drop.

When Dean moved to pull away, Castiel gripped him tighter to him. He wasn't done with his adrenaline fuelled reaction yet and he was really more afraid Dean would see the tears than he was of being viewed as too clingy. Dean seemed to understand though and squeezed him with laughter Castiel could feel as well as hear.

"That was unpleasant." Castiel said with a shaky breath muffled by Dean's shirt. "I don't think I would like to do that again."

Dean chuckled. "I'll give you lessons before we have to change vehicles again, Speed Racer. You'll do fine." Dean turned to climb in the truck. "In fact, you did really well considering you've never driven before."

The compliment had Castiel smiling as he went to open the passenger side door of the car. It was then that he noticed the emblem denoting the model of the vehicle. He had only seen that the car was black and a newer model. There weren't many identifying features that would place it as unique to any other of its type. He traced the chrome stylized animal against the sleek black metal with his finger as he waited for Dean to return.

He turned when he heard the footfalls of Dean running to catch up to him. His face was lit up and carefree. Castiel noticed some metal plates in Dean's hands. He reached down in front of the car, removed and replaced the existing metal and did the same at the rear. He grinned as they both got in.

"Well," Dean began as he hotwired the car to life once more, "It's not Baby… but it'll make better time than the truck."

Castiel's bright smile and gleaming blue eyes shone in happiness as he heard the music play on the radio. The "previous owner" had a CD player and his choice of music was similar to Dean's. Castiel leaned into the plush upholstery and closed his eyes. The internal temperature decreased to where it was pleasant and comfortable as the air conditioner whirred. With the return to the highway, Castiel soon fell asleep to the vibration of the car, the melodic guitar and smooth singing of "Nothing Else Matters" on the radio and the hum of the fan blowing cool air to his face as a lullaby.

It was quiet and the car was still. He heard other cars whooshing by somewhere to his right. Dean was speaking on his phone in a hushed voice.

"Well, I'm headed north right now… Nah, I got the scent of something, but I don't know if… No, Sam… I'm fine… In fact, I… I kinda picked up a partner…" Castiel heard a shift of Dean's body in the seat. His voice became clearer, slightly louder, as though he turned to look at the "sleeping" angel at his side. "Yeah, well… you'd know him if you saw him."

Castiel cracked open his eyes. It was full dark, but Castiel was able to see Dean's profile against the glow from the lights of streetlamps and the neon of truck-stop signs. Dean had turned back to face forward as he continued speaking to Sam in the driver's seat. Castiel was always struck by the simple but tremendous strength of Dean Winchester. Now, that he spent some time alone with him, he could see there were all kinds of nuance in his interactions… not just with Sam, but "outsiders" as well.

One of the things that Castiel noticed tonight was the fact that, while there was pain under the surface, Dean spoke to Sam with none of the agony he had last time he had observed them. Dean seemed to hold himself with a fortified strength he didn't have before. He wondered what had changed in such a brief time. He knew that Dean was getting more sleep and the quality of the rest was better since Castiel would ensure it was so. He wondered if fatigue contributed to Dean's inability to deal with the strong emotions that would sweep over him during conversations with his brother.

When Dean signed off the conversation with a promise to call again, giving Sam a date and time, Castiel watched the hunter process all the emotions currently swimming the currents of his heart and mind. They flitted across Dean's face- changing so rapidly, it was difficult to determine what one was before transitioning on to the next. He turned his head to face Castiel.

The light filtered in from behind him, leaving his entire countenance in shadow. It was a strange complement to his tendency to hide those emotions and thoughts from the world around him.

"How is he?" Castiel asked in a whisper.

Dean took a deep breath and Castiel could see his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Who really knows? He doesn't tell me the truth."

Castiel nodded. But, then… Dean outright lied to his brother each time Castiel had heard them speak to each other. He didn't call Dean on that fact, though. He had to travel with _him_ and not with Sam. Dean reached out a hand and brushed his fingers through Castiel's hair and swept them down to the side of his face. If Castiel had been the cat that Dean had called him, he would have purred.

"Are you hungry?" Dean asked in the same quiet voice that Castiel had used.

It was intimate, Castiel thought. The low-key volume of their whispers, the soft and gentle caress, the shadows across their faces and the muted light streaming through the tinted windows… the world outside couldn't find them here. The worries and danger were less urgent. The demands of their mission and the people that needed them were blocked out by glass, fiberglass and metal. Castiel almost lost track of the question, failed to comprehend its meaning.

Dean wasn't rushing him. He just leaned his side against the seat back and gazed at Castiel. Cas was unable to see any of Dean's features and he found that unacceptable, but was unwilling to break the spell they were under to rectify the situation. Instead, he closed his eyes to enjoy the petting. Dean let out a quiet chuckle and ceased his ministrations. Castiel frowned at the loss which caused Dean to laugh out loud. Cas opened his eyes to glare at the shadowy figure in front of him. Dean was obviously able to see all of Cas' face and the angel's reaction amused him.

"Come on, let's get some dinner."

With that, Dean exited the car, ending the spell of intimacy and comfort. Castiel sighed and left to catch up. He had to almost run to make it to the door just as Dean had opened it.

"I do not require food to sustain me, Dean." He spoke in an aside.

Dean looked at him and grinned as a waitress came to seat them with greasy laminated menus. When they were seated and gave their drink orders, Dean leaned in across the table to address Castiel so they wouldn't be overheard.

"You don't require sleep either, except you just slept two and half hours, Cas. So, do some kind of internal inventory and decide if the vessel you are walking around in would like a burger or a taco."

Dean leaned back and looked at the menu. He put it down after a cursory glance. Castiel, however, took his time and looked at each item listed. When the waitress arrived back with their mugs of coffee, Dean ordered straight away, and both of them turned to look at Castiel.

"Jeez, Cas… it's not War and Peace… pick something."

Castiel shot a glare of "Show me some respect" and turned back to the menu.

"I can come back in a minute, if you want." The waitress said.

"That will be unnecessary, but thank you." Castiel shared a winning smile with the woman and put the menu down on the table. "I would like the meatloaf dinner, please."

Castiel was then presented with a long list of options for sides that he had to consider and answer before she would offer yet another list of choices. Castiel blew out a relieved breath when the woman left. "Who knew ordering dinner was so challenging?"

Dean turned away from Castiel in order to regain control of his jollity. When he returned to regard Castiel again, he erupted in a fresh bout of laughter leaving tears in his eyes. "God, I've missed you, Cas."

There was nothing to say to that. Castiel was delighted and he waited with a full grin on his face. Dean drank from his mug, which had to be refreshed before their food arrived. All through the dinner, Castiel noted that Dean seemed pensive. He looked off to a spot Castiel couldn't see and seemed to lose himself there.

"What are you thinking, Dean?" Castiel finally asked.

Dean dropped his eyes from the faraway place of his mind and made contact with Castiel. He shook his head before taking another drink. This was Dean Code for "leave it alone". Dean wasn't yet ready to share what was on his mind. Castiel wouldn't push it.

"I am glad you insisted that I eat something, Dean. That was delicious."

The look Dean gave Castiel was filled with skepticism. There were still vegetables, mashed potatoes and a small bite of meat remaining on the plate, but for the most part, Castiel cleared everything he was offered. Additionally, he ate a good bit of the salad he was brought and all of the sourdough roll. Had he been human, he would have been uncomfortable with the large meal sitting in his gut.

The waitress returned with the bill and asked if they would need anything else. Dean ordered two pieces of chocolate mousse pie "to go" with a gleam in his eye. Castiel smiled, but otherwise was unfazed.

On the way out to the Impala, Dean yawned causing Castiel to slow their progress by standing in the middle of the driveway.

"Come on, Cas. Get in the car."

"We should find a place to rest for the night… or at least a few hours. You have been driving all day." Castiel tried for diplomatic, concerned.

"I'm fine," came the gruff and irascible reply.

Castiel walked to Dean and stood toe to toe with him. "Dean Winchester. You have been driving for many hours and your body requires sleep. We should find a place to rest for several hours before continuing our journey…" Then, he added with an edge to his voice, "California will still be there after you wake up."

Anger flared in Dean at that point. Castiel had been very careful to not evoke Dean's temper, but he knew that the hunter needed the rest. He would not be getting into the vehicle until he extracted a promise from Dean that he would.

Dean ranted and fumed at Castiel, but everything that was said had zero impact on the stoic form in the middle of the road. Drivers honked at the men as they tried to navigate around them. Finally, Dean told Castiel that he would leave him there. He tried to get into the car, but the door wouldn't open.

"I told you, Dean… you will not be driving anywhere until you promise you will find a place to rest for the night." The words were spoken with such calm; they might have been missed if Dean hadn't turned his whole attention to Cas when he realized the angel had "mojoed" the door shut.

Dean rushed up to Castiel and grabbed his shirt front in his fist. The threatening manner injured Castiel not at all. He remained nonplussed and rigid. "Open the door!" Dean ground out between clenched teeth.

"When you promise, Dean. I will keep you safe for as long as I am able. I have promised that I will not leave you, but I will not allow you to shorten your admittedly less-than-full projected life span by doing things that endanger yourself needlessly. Driving while so fatigued is likely to cause a serious accident. I will not _lose_ you, Dean. I just _found_ you."

Castiel had decided when he stood at the side of the road panicking about whether Dean was all right, he couldn't let Dean do something that would lessen his odds of survival. He had decided when Dean told Sam that he found a hunting partner, he was going to make that true. Fatigue made dealing with his brother's situation more difficult. He decided that if he could help him with Sam, in any small way that he could, he would do it. If Dean wanted to uninvite Castiel from his bed, that was fine. But, he wouldn't allow the hunter to continue without a true partner.

Dean stood there dumbfounded. The shock was evident in his expression. His grip in Castiel's shirt loosened and he stepped back. His shoulders slumped down and he threw up his hands in defeat. "Get in the car, Cas." He began walking to the driver's side. "And open the damned door!"

When Dean lifted the handle, the door swung open. By the time Dean had the engine started, Castiel was sitting next to him.

"Do you have a preference as to hotel, Ms. Diva, or did you wanna let me decide?"

Castiel stayed silent and Dean turned away from him as they drove away.

The room was little better than the one in East Beach. It didn't smell of cigarettes, but the duvet covers were musty and scratchy. The faux-wood paneling made the room darker than it might have been and the yellowish glow from the lights didn't dispel the gloom. Castiel found it appropriate to their mood.

Dean had gotten a room with two beds. He knew that Castiel did not necessarily require a bed at all. Castiel suspected that it was a statement. Dean still hadn't spoken a word to him since the restaurant parking lot. This was Dean Code for "I'm pissed off and I want you to know it." Or perhaps, "If I'm miserable, you will be, too." That was fine by Castiel. He had gone without physical intimacy, any intimacy, for millennia before he met Dean Winchester. He would likely go millennia after Dean was finally put to rest for the last time. And Castiel was patient. He understood that Dean would eventually need him again… maybe not for _that_, strictly speaking… but, for something.

Castiel stood in the middle of the dingy room as Dean brushed past him, shoulder-checking him as he did so, and threw his duffel on the inside bed. He headed for the bathroom without a backwards glance. Despite the angel's motivations being for Dean's good alone, his friend was angry but Castiel couldn't tell why. It was all so very confusing. A small rest shouldn't have fluffed up this much drama. There had to be something more to it. But, this was in the code manual, too. Dean didn't do "chick flick moments". So, don't bother asking.

When Dean emerged from the bathroom, he continued to ignore the angel. Castiel remained passive and stoic. Instead of lashing out, this was how Dean planned to deal with the emotions that were overbearing him. He reached in the brown paper bag, pulled out the bottle of amber-colored liquid and went to his bed… alone except for his buddy, Jim. Castiel had remained silent on the matter when they stopped at the liquor store. He remained silent on the matter now. He would continue to remain silent until Dean deigned to speak to him. He would remain standing until given instructions. He tended to revert back to "that kind of angel" when he didn't know what else to do.

The only way he knew that Dean was looking at him was that he felt the weight of icy regard coming from Dean's direction. Castiel wasn't facing away from him as some sort of passive-aggressive maneuver. He was already facing this direction when he entered the room. Angels could remain completely still for uncounted years. This was certainly no hardship. But, the eyes focused on him made him fidget. He heard a "hurumph" from the bed. It sounded like a kind of victory.

Then, the light went off and they were wrapped in darkness of the night.

Castiel heard the rustling of the covers and the sound of the springs shift against the hunter's weight. Castiel stood straight and still. Dean shifted again and Castiel heard a sigh and exaggerated breathing. Seconds later, another shift on the bed and some grumbling. This continued for a half an hour. Dean would turn and shift in bed, making verbal complaints without words and Castiel would remain unmoved by his discomfort.

"God damn it, Cas!" Dean finally erupted. "Go the fuck to bed!"

Castiel smiled. "Yes, Dean."

Castiel moved to his bed and lay on top. He noticed the sudden stillness from the other side of the room when he uttered those words. He did not miss the rumble of whispered epithets or the near-whimper as Dean rolled on to his side. Castiel was fluent in Dean Code by this time. He didn't always understand what lie beneath it, but he could understand the parlance. In the Code, Castiel had won several victories tonight. Dean was a sore loser.

The two were up several hours before the sun. Castiel was content to move even though Dean slept for such a short while. Any rest was preferable to none. They stowed their gear, washed up and headed out. Dean complained bitterly about the use of funds to get a room for the night and the lost time traveling west. Castiel didn't comment that Dean had eaten both pieces of pie for breakfast and left none for him. By the time they stopped for gas and lunch, it was mid-afternoon and they had driven all day without a thing spoken to the other aside from the bare minimum. The music was starting to grate on Castiel's nerves and Castiel's stoic silence was making Dean more short-tempered. So, when Dean extended the olive leaf in the form of "You hungry?" Castiel accepted it with a smile in response and said, "Yes, Dean."

So, after they ate at the small burger stand near the Mobile, Alabama gas station where they filled up, Dean offered a driving lesson. After much coaxing and complimenting Castiel's maiden drive, Dean managed to get him behind the wheel of the stolen Impala. They practiced in an empty parking lot to a boarded up hardware store for over an hour. By the time they were ready to move onward, Castiel had the whole acceleration, braking, turning thing without crashing or freaking out. Dean even got Castiel to pretend to parallel park between the blue lines of a handicapped parking space.

Dean began talking. The topics ranged from music and what bands were considered "acceptable" by Dean's standards to why they avoided going too far inland unless absolutely necessary when driving through the southern states. Dean had a theory that it got scarier the further north you travelled when moving through. He also began to wax poetic about pies. This caused both of them to reminisce with a grin on both of their faces. If Dean had a slight blush, Castiel wouldn't mention it.

They passed the Louisiana border without much fanfare, but Dean turned off the main road headed west to travel north for an hour or so.

"I was under the impression we were avoiding heading north while in the southern states." Castiel looked out the windows with worry in his furrowed brow.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, but we are running low on funds since you're so insistent that we take time for rest. Plus, we're feeding two now instead of just me."

Castiel wondered if his budget had even considered food at all prior to Castiel's arrival since he hadn't seen him eat much. He watched as they traveled through an area where it may not be terribly friendly toward strangers or law enforcement officials.

"I'm not… entirely… comfortable… with this course of action, Dean." Castiel told him in a hushed and concerned voice.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, Cas. But,…" Dean looked at Castiel as they pulled in front of a wooden structure that had a metal sign stating that shirts were mandatory except for "biker mamas". A dozen or so motorcycles parked in the front of the building and despite being a few hours before dark, there was loud music and boisterous laughter coming from inside. There was a large man leaning against the door frame smoking a cigar as they opened the doors to the car. Castiel looked at Dean for instructions.

Dean's relaxed strut emphasized his confidence as he moved around the back of the Impala to stand beside his angel. He popped the trunk open with a couple of twists of his lockpicks. He scrounged their belongings until he found what he was looking for in the form of a tight bundle of tan fabric. He looked over the top of the car to discover he was being observed by the "welcoming committee" at the entrance. He flicked his wrist to shake out the trenchcoat and handed it to Castiel. Cas looked at his coat and ran his hand over the fabric with feelings of awe rising up inside him. He lifted his watery blue eyes to express the question in his heart. When Dean pulled out his shotgun and lifted his head to look at Castiel, he became nervous.

"Look…" Dean got very close to Cas without actually touching him. "I get you want to get all chocolate-covered chick flick about this… and I'll let you… all you want, I promise. Later. I need you to be Castiel, Bad-Ass Angel of the Lord right now."

Castiel nodded and slipped his coat on. His expression took on what Dean called the "Show me some respect" face. Dean handed the sawed-off shotgun for him to hide under its tan fabric. Dean straightened, checked his remaining funds and shut the trunk lid. They headed up the steps to the front entrance. The man standing there blocked the way. Dean stopped in front of him as "big and beefy" looked him up and down. Castiel no longer had to pretend at being intimidating. He didn't like the way the man regarded Dean. He found the curl of the man's lip and the wrinkling of his nose offensive. Dean stared the man down with his most aggressive front, but the man took in the "I will smite you now" look on Castiel and stepped aside. Castiel remained at the door as Dean entered the establishment.

Dean made his way to the bar and ordered. Castiel remained near the front and watched. He noticed there was a door directly opposite the entrance. He felt the staring eyes of the man who held the sentinel position. He ignored him. The man could not do him any harm. He could _try_… but Castiel was here to watch _Dean's_ back.

Castiel surveyed the room. There were many large bikers with leather featured predominantly in their wardrobe. Nearly every inch of all the inhabitants was covered with body art. Some were intricate with swooping lines and exquisite writing in a variety of colors. Others had stylized and extravagant animals in a plethora of styles. Some were very realistic, others were cartoonish. Weapons and the naked female form featured heavily in the art, at odds with the decided religious iconography… even on the women present. There were piercings in the men as well as the women. The jackets the men wore were heavy leather with identifying marks and symbols on the back. Castiel huffed in good humor to discover they identified as "Angels". The women wore nearly nothing at all.

There was a strong aroma of alcohol that was only slightly overwhelmed by smoke from tobacco and… other more pungent substances. The pall of bluish smoke hovered in the air. The music from the old time jukebox playing vinyl records was loud and raucous. The men and women laughed and bellowed loudly as they lounged across the furniture… or each other… and there were several tables hosting games of poker. The players of the card games each had drinks on the wooden table tops and sported hard expressions of "not willing to tolerate any funny business". The stakes looked to be fairly high.

Castiel turned to look at his friend who continued to have his back turned to the large room and hunched over the stool, leaning on the bar top with a tumbler containing his signature drink. Castiel grimaced at the sight but remained. He watched Dean's body language and his facial expressions. This was some sort of game, the rules to which Dean had mastered since he was very young. He was listening, Castiel decided. He tried to tune in to the something that the hunter was so focused on. He was able to see the narrowing of Dean's eyes and the defensiveness in his muscles. He was a hair trigger if trouble erupted, though to all outward appearance he rested in nonchalance.

Castiel was as still as stone except for his other-worldly senses. He tested the ebb and flow of the energies in the room through the filter of his grace. Hardly anyone had taken notice of Dean or his angel. They were wrapped up in their own existences and their own amusements. Castiel determined that was the reason Dean didn't approach the card games straight away. He was allowing the room to adjust to his presence. A movement to his left caught Castiel's attention.

A woman broke away from a small group of youths—although that term was subjective in this room. She moved in the over-exaggerated provocativeness of a drunken alley cat. She swayed her hips and thrust her breasts forward, her head back to swish her brown hair in what Castiel assumed was some sort of mating display. He growled under his breath as she approached Dean.

Dean showed his usual charm and planted a leer to his smile. The only clue that the false receptiveness was a ploy was that his smile didn't translate as genuine in his eyes. Castiel was always able to determine the sincerity of Dean's statements by whether or not it reached his eyes. Dean was lying in his eyes though his words poured like honey over toast—soft, sweet and slow. His smile was alluring and promised worlds of pleasure and excitement. Castiel felt an involuntary quake run through him as Dean seduced the woman. He rose with a nod to the angel standing guard and moved in the direction of the players, one arm draped across the woman's slender, bony shoulders. Her head cradled itself into Dean's warm embrace and she wrapped her arm around his midsection. They moved together as if strolling through the park in a lovers' embrace. An angry outburst erupted from that direction indicating a position may have just opened at the table.

The man towered over Dean's more than six foot frame as the two figures approached. The other players laughed at the grim expression on the departing man's face, teasing and taunting him as he left. The man tossed an empty chair across the room and he plowed into Castiel's side, just to bounce off the immovable wall of celestial intent. Castiel turned his head to take in the man who cradled his arm in pain. The injury added to the man's insult resulted in his throwing a fit in the parking lot. A woman rushed out to try and console him, which earned her a close-fisted strike across her face, landing her in the dirt. Castiel's face darkened and he turned. A meaty hand closed on the tan fabric of Castiel's coat. He looked down to it as if it was some bit of bile landed on him. He wondered if it would burn given close enough scrutiny.

"Don't." The man advised.

Castiel looked up at the doorman. His burning ire raged in blue eyes, but then he remembered that he wasn't here to right wrongs in human society within the sub-culture of American biker gangs. He was here to cover Dean should the hunter require "back-up". Castiel quenched a modicum of his rage and nodded his acknowledgement of the man next to him. He turned back to regard his friend as Dean slipped into the open space at the table. There were no chips, just cash.

The woman seemed to become more and more enamored of Dean as the night progressed, especially when he was winning hands. His smirk would come out full force when he would rake the winnings to his chest and turn to full on grin when the hand was particularly good. Castiel heard the initial grumblings of "cheat" but they were said with no real heat behind them... just the complaints of men who didn't like to lose, particularly to one as young as Dean. The more hands Dean won, the later it got, the more alcohol and other substances the players consumed, the more assertive that complaint became. Dean defused most indications that they doubted the veracity of his win with rounds of more alcohol, strokes to bruised egos and decries of the woman on his arm being some kind of lucky charm. His dimples and charm had more women showing interest in Dean… as well as the growing pile of cash in front of him.

Then, the largest man at the table looked at Dean with his most menacing scowl. Dean looked back at him with the most convincing "poker face" he could muster. They were the only two players left in the hand and Castiel sensed a shift in the energies. The man was desperate and angry. He had a good portion of his money in the pile in front of Dean. The rest of his money sat in the center of the table. Castiel began to move. He was discrete and quiet, staying toward the perimeter and worked his way closer to the poker tables. The crowd was hushed and someone had killed the jukebox an hour ago. There were many pairs of eyes on the two players at this one table and no one paid any attention to a scrawny-looking man with black hair and tan over coat walking behind them.

"Well…" The other growled at Dean.

Dean never took his eyes off the man across from him.

"Call." He said with conviction.

There were murmurs and speculative whispers running through the crowd around them.

"Straight… to the Queen." There were loud congratulations of relieved and happy conversations nearby. Dean hadn't moved. His eyes never flinched. His mouth curled up into a grin and a hush settled back over the onlookers. Castiel knew this was when it would happen.

Dean tilted his head and flipped each card individually. Ace of Spades. King of Spades. Queen of Spades. Jack of Spades. Dean held the last card up and dropped it with a little spin to land in front of the other player. Ten of Spades.

At first, Castiel stopped moving thinking he read the room wrong. The man dropped his head but his eyes narrowed on the card in front of him. Loud laughter and patting on Dean's back erupted as he gathered the winnings to him. Then, Castiel sensed the change. The table was flipped with a roar and a gun was drawn and pointed at Dean who jumped back from the table as it landed on its side. The people offering congratulations and praise moments ago had backed completely away from Dean and watched with nervous tension. Castiel approached Dean and stood slightly in front of him and to his side. His hands out to the side and back in a protective gesture.

"You think I won't kill you, too?" The man waved the gun threatening at Castiel. Cas spoke quietly but with authority of Heaven in his gruff voice.

"You are welcome to try."

Suddenly, the lamp above them showered sparks and glass over the men and women standing nearby and under it. The man with the gun didn't see Dean reach under Cas' coat to pull forth the shotgun and pump the cartridge into the chamber. Castiel was not pleased with the turn of these events. He advanced toward the man with the gun.

"Cas." Dean shouted and aimed the gun at the crowd as well. "Cas, come on. Leave it."

Castiel had no intention of "leaving it". He growled at the man in front of him and he bore down on him with all the weight of Heaven's might. The man's eyes grew wide. There were men and women nearby who cried out in alarm that they were unable to move at all. The man tried to pull the trigger of the pistol in his hand and found he was unable to move his finger… or his leg… or his head… or, indeed any part of his body. His eyes began to water.

"You lost." Cas growled at him. "You should not gamble with that which you are unwilling to lose, and you lost. Be grateful that money is all you will lose this night." There was a rumble under the ground as if to emphasize his point. With that, he turned to leave. The patrons of the bar remained frozen and despite the fact that Dean was free to move, he stood in the spot as if rooted there. Castiel turned to face him.

"Were you going to collect your winnings, Dean? We have a long way to go."

Dean nodded and began to collect the bills splayed across the floor. He fumbled with the shotgun for a moment while he paused to lift an untouched glass of beer sitting on a motionless waitress' tray to his mouth.

"Good game." He called as he hurried to catch up to Cas who was climbing into the car. Dean ran and jumped behind the wheel as fast as he could and started the car. His eyes were wide and his heart was racing. He peeled the car out of the driveway and sped down the road until he reached the highway.

Dean laughed in relief that he didn't get shot. He turned to look at Castiel who was facing forward, a dark and stormy expression showing none of Dean's amusement.

"That was close, huh, Cas?" He tried.

Dean didn't often forget what Castiel really was. He didn't often need a reminder of the kind of power Cas had access to. Perhaps, tonight would remind him what the part about "Angel of the Lord" really meant. Castiel remained stony until the drove out of the sticks and passed the sign declaring "You Are Now Entering Shreveport City Limits. Welcome." Dean's high from an excess of adrenaline had begun to dissipate after about ten minutes of driving north on the highway. He cast covert glances at Castiel at regular intervals. The angel hadn't moved, twitched, or acknowledged any of Dean's attempts at engagement.

"Hey, Cas?"

Castiel sighed and brought his hand to wipe his face. "I am tired, Dean." He responded in almost a whisper. "Can we… not do this until the morning?"

Dean nodded even though Castiel was still focused forward. Dean drove down the streets of Shreveport, trying to avoid intersections with obvious cameras, ATMs or high-end stores. He stuck to back roads and alleys as much as possible until he pulled into motel driveway near a bus depot. He got out with the engine running and came back with a key.

The door opened to a clean smelling room. That was different. The beige coverlet on the one bed in the middle of the room was complemented by the beige walls, the tan wood of the headboard and nightstand as well as the cream colored countertops of the sink outside the bathroom door. Castiel entered the room and stood in the middle as Dean closed the door behind him.

Dean placed two duffle bags on the floor next to the foot of the bed and moved to close the window coverings. Surprise. They were beige. He seemed nervous. Castiel could practically taste it in the air. He fidgeted and worried as he moved with caution toward the foot of the bed and sat down with care. His eyes never left Castiel.

Castiel could feel the burn of fatigue on his eyelids. He stood in the center of the room but his legs were tired of sitting and standing all day. His back was sore and his shoulders hurt from the tension of having been taut with strain the entire time Dean was playing cards. His heart hurt, too. He watched as the woman draped herself all over Dean and, even though it was all part of the game, it was a scene from the game that Dean had been infamous for the entire time Castiel had known him. It was always a woman draped over him, going to his bed, plying him with kisses and more. He knew it was a game, and still he knew that the game is what Dean had played all his life with random women.

"You should shower, Dean." He said in such a quiet voice, it sounded small.

Dean rose from his place and moved toward Castiel. He reached out an unsteady hand and placed it at the collar of the tan coat. The touch was tentative and soft, at odds with the strength and ruggedness of the hunter. Castiel closed his eyes when he felt the skin from Dean's fingers graze the skin of his neck. He swallowed hard. Dean took it as permission to continue.

Dean slid Castiel's signature coat to the ground. He lifted his hand to the hem at the bottom of his shirt and gripped it lightly between his long fingers. He began to gather the fabric in his hand as he made his way from one side of Castiel to the front. Soon, Dean was standing directly in front of him. His hands with the bunched fabric rose on either side of Castiel, skimming over his skin as he went. Castiel inhaled a gasp of air and leaned his head backward to reveal the underside of his neck. His pulse quickened as Dean stood before him lifting the fabric upward.

Dean raised Cas' arms by the simple expedient of lifting his hands underneath dragging the shirt along with them. The soft-shirt fabric covered Cas' face as it was removed. Dean leaned in and placed his lips on the first part to emerge from under the neckline when it was lifted up. He kissed Cas' chin as he slowly pulled the shirt. Then, he kissed his mouth, then nose and eyes. Cas' forehead and hair emerged and Dean placed closed-mouthed kisses on his forehead and cheeks. Cas kept his eyes closed and tilted his chin down, leaned forward until his head was resting against Dean's chest. Dean dropped the shirt next to the coat and wrapped his arms around the angel leaning against him. Castiel could feel Dean's steady breaths against his hair, could hear the air fill his lungs, the strength of his heart beating, could smell the scent of the grain alcohol on his breath. It was the scent and sounds of Dean Winchester. No snarky witticisms. No defensive posturing. Just Dean. Castiel let his arms drop to his side once the shirt was removed to wrap around Dean, encompassing him in his embrace.

They stood that way for a few moments, allowing the warmth of their body heat to intersperse between them. The scent of the angel mixed with the scent of the hunter. And both their scents mingled with the scents of beer, tobacco, cannabis, and barroom floozy. Castiel pulled away from the hunter and pushed him toward the bathroom.

"Bathe, Dean. Please."

Dean looked at Castiel with concern at the plaintive request. He nodded and headed for the door, stripping off his clothing as he went. Castiel went to the foot of the bed and sat down. Dean turned before walking through the threshold to contemplate Castiel. He took in the slumped shoulders, bare now without the shirt and coat to cover them. He looked at the rounded bow of his spine as he hunched forward, head dropped down below the rise of the shoulders, hanging heavily from his neck—too tired or strung out to hold it upright. Castiel held his feet apart and leaned his elbows on his thighs to support his frame, holding it from toppling forward onto the floor.

Dean moved forward and stopped directly in front of Castiel. His hand reached forward to lift his chin until the two were looking into the other's eyes. With his other hand, he dragged Castiel up on his feet again and led him into the small bathroom. Once there, he completed the task he started in the other room. They stood face to face and Dean turned on the faucet to run water until it became heated enough to bathe in. Cas looked as though he would pass out at any moment. Dean expressed his concern in every light touch and caress, every glance with his eyes, every whispered instruction to remove his garments and enter the shower.

He aided Castiel under the steaming water before finishing disrobing and joining him. Castiel let the water rain down onto his body and Dean's hand smooth away the knots in his muscles. He allowed a sigh to escape him as the hands and the water massaged the tension away from him. Dean used body wash from the tiny container left by the sink to lather soap across Castiel's back and across his shoulders. He rubbed circles down him until he reached his waist line. For a moment, Dean hesitated. When Castiel noted that the hands had stilled and Dean was no longer touching him, he looked behind him at the man standing there wearing a look of concern.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice was hoarse and sleepy.

"Are you… are you _okay_… you know, with this?" Dean asked with trepidation.

Castiel smiled and closed his eyes while reaching for Dean's hand to bring it forward to his chest. Dean slid forward resting his chest on Cas' bare, wet back. They held each other, there under the warm drops and steamy vapor rose to envelope them. They didn't say anything, they just rubbed hands up and down, without an agenda or greater purpose. They each allowed the other to lather soap onto bodies and into their hair until they both rid themselves of all traces of the evening; dirt, grime, booze and trouble circling the drain and leaving them fresh and new.

Dean reached to turn the water off as the temperature ran cooler. He wrapped Castiel in a towel which was accepted with a grateful smile. They both emerged from the steamy room, got dressed in undergarments and lay on the bed, close and touching, but no more erotic than rest.

Castiel closed his eyes. There was only the rising and falling of his chest, the dreamy drifting of his mind, and the warm touch of Dean's arm and side next to him, touching along his side and holding him in this world.

"Can I ask you a question and you not get mad?" Dean asked in a whisper into the darkened room.

Castiel tensed. This could not be good if Dean was phrasing it this way. He opened his weary eyes and felt the heartsick cold begin to settle in his gut. He turned to face the shadowed profile of the man next to him.

Dean turned his body so he was laying on his side and traced fingers over Castiel's chest. Cas steadied his breathing, anticipating the worst.

"Cas, you know I'm all kinds of happy you're here… that you're alive and back… but… What is with… you know, the tired and emotional and… really, man… I don't mean to be a prick and you said you didn't know…. But…" Dean left the rest hanging in the air.

Castiel hadn't anticipated a return to an earlier question. He considered it again, more rationally this time. He could sense the connection to the Heavenly Host. He was still able to hear the choir of angels singing in his mind. It was weakened, but there. He would be able to perform "minor" feats of angelic power. Minor in comparison to when Dean and he first met… before the Apocalypse.

"I don't know." Castiel whispered with a sigh. "I can feel my connection to Heaven… I still have access to all the powers that I have had in the past, but… it seems the flow is… limited. I get tired. I have noticed something else as well…"

Castiel felt Dean stop his fingers from moving up his chest. He heard an intake of breath and imagined the tension rise between them.

"You're feeling human emotions more strongly." Dean said.

Castiel nodded. "Yes, but… That isn't all. There is…" Castiel didn't really know how to phrase it. He had noticed a trickling flow of energy from another source, aside from the powerful current he was used to sensing from Heaven. "There's a channel opening to me that I was previously unaware existed. I think… I think, Death may have been right."

Dean sat up, leaning his body on his elbow. "What do you mean, 'Death was right'?"

The tension in Dean's voice almost made Castiel refrain from continuing. He was sure that if he said it was 'nothing', that he was tired and his mind was foggy, that he didn't really know what he was saying… Dean would become angry. It was exhausting dealing with the emotional turmoil he felt; it was worse when Dean was angry. He exhaled a sigh and rubbed his hand down his face.

"I mean… what if all I ever was… what if what I made myself into… was… a 'Mutated Angel'? What if something is really wrong with me, Dean?"

The tension he felt rise in Dean suddenly dissipated. The tension for Castiel, however, increased, as did his breathing, turning into a panting escalation to a full-blown panic attack. Tingling stinging sensation began behind his eyelids as he clenched them shut. He wrapped his arms around himself and turned his body away from Dean.

Dean moved closer to Castiel, pressing his bare chest to Cas' back and wrapped his arms around him. His face pressed up against the back of his neck close to his ear.

"Listen to me… Cas, listen to me."

Castiel turned his head toward Dean and sniffed. He was angry at his lack of emotional control. This just added to the frustration and fear building inside him.

"Cas,… you're an angel… mutated or not, it's not important… you're my angel… and you… Look, we'll figure this out, okay? You and me… we'll figure it out." He squeezed his arms to reassure Castiel. Cas buried his face into the pillow to stifle the tears and the helplessness he was feeling. Dean pressed his lips against Cas' shoulder blades.

A smile began to form on Dean's face.

"Hey, maybe I'm being rewarded for all the good deeds I've done in my life."

Dean backed up slightly to allow Cas to turn toward him. Dean stroked his hand down Cas' back and around his waist to tug him closer, moving him to face him in the process. Castiel could hear the leer in his voice as he continued to explain.

"Hell, Cas… maybe all these emotions you've been feeling are a reward… to me! I mean, seriously, if you hadn't gotten all jealous, would we be here right now?"

The attempt at a joke was not lost on Castiel. He smiled. "You don't think you would've been rewarded with something a little better than a broken angel? I think you should ask for a return policy."

Dean laughed and leaned his forehead against Cas. "See, dude… keeping up with the humor. This is actually why I think it's a reward to me. You think all this new snark was meant for someone else? I mean, really… you have a long way until you can reach my caliber of awesome, but… you'll get there."

With that he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to Castiel's lips. He stopped as if spellbound to stare at the form next to him. They spent a few more moments just staring into each other's faces by the sliver of light snaking past the drapery from the lot outside the window. Castiel reached his hand to brush his knuckles to Dean's face. He watched Dean close his eyes and lean into the touch. Cas turned all the way to face Dean, leaning his back against the mattress. Dean hesitated before moving to lower himself half-way, hovering himself over the prone angel. Cas swept his hand behind Dean's neck and applied light force, encouraging him to complete the journey. They started with closed-lipped butterfly-soft touches of lips to lips, breathing into each other's mouths. But, then, Castiel hummed in the back of his throat, a wanton sound of yearning. Dean's lips contacted with more urgent and ardent pressure, his tongue tasting and coaxing. Castiel accepted the invitation and felt his mouth filled with Dean.

They became overtaken by the passion, as they did the first time they had consummated their feelings for one another. Dean took a more assertive position as he moved to straddle Castiel, pinning him beneath his weight and rutting his hips down against him in long, slow arcs. Their kisses were turning to nips of teeth on sensitive skin and lips, tongues crashing into each other producing wave upon wave of desire, building in insistence and leaving both wildly moaning rambling nonsense.

Castiel's anxiety about what he had become faded behind the immediacy of the moment. He didn't stop to wonder when his outlook had become so human and narrow. His pinpoint focus was here… now… Dean… His mind repeated that focus over and over until the name was spilling from his mouth in choked gasps and thrusting groins causing the pressure and sensations to spread until he was breathless… grunting and gasping with each drive of his erection into the space between he and Dean. Dean, too, seemed to lose all coherent thought beyond the pleasure of their movements upon the other. Castiel calling his name, gasping it in shallow breaths and then screaming it in ecstasy, caused the pace of the compressions by Dean to become frenetic. Only when they had both sated their lust in a warm stream of wet against their clothes and skin, did they stop and consider each other in panting breaths and drooping eyelids, weakened muscles and exhausted emotions. Dean rolled off of Castiel to lie next to him again, trying to catch his breath. He flung an arm over his face until his breathing slowed. When he looked over to check on Castiel, he saw that the angel was asleep.

Castiel woke up with Dean's legs and arms entangling him. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of sex left from the night's activities. He laid there gazing at Dean. He believed that all Dean's cares and worries were erased from his face while he slept, though he knew that Dean's mind continued to fret over them in his dreams. With whisper light touches of his fingertips, Castiel traced the worry lines between his closed eyes, softly ran over the short laugh lines that, when Dean smiled, creased the corners of his eyes, painted over the freckles that dappled his nose and cheeks, and smoothed over the whiskered chin and jaw with all the adoration and wonder he felt.

"Stalker." Dean grumbled.

Castiel smiled. "Am not."

Green eyes blinked awake to look up into blue. Those crinkled laugh lines appeared like magic causing Cas' grin to grow.

"Hungry?" Cas asked.

"As a bear."

Castiel disentangled himself from Dean and moved to wash up and dress in the bathroom. When he returned it was to see that Dean hadn't moved a muscle and, in fact, looked like he would fall asleep fairly soon. Castiel pulled the keys and some cash from Dean's discarded jeans and left the room.

Dean was dressed and showered when he walked through the door carrying a pink box and a drink carrier with disposable hot beverage containers.

"I didn't know what to get." Castiel moaned. "There were so many choices and none of them appeared to have much nutritional value."

Dean rummaged around the box and pulled out a cake donut and grabbed a coffee. "Are you kidding? This here is the breakfast of champions, Cas. Thanks." He brushed a kiss at Cas' temple as he passed by. Cas turned to look as Dean stood frozen in his path, shocked at his open display of affection.

"Dean?"

Dean shook his head with his back to Castiel. "Well, shit." Dean said, though there was laughter in his voice as he said it.

"What?" Castiel was concerned.

Dean turned to face Castiel, donut not yet eaten and coffee cup unmoving half-way to his mouth. He lowered his hand and, still shaking his head with a smile, sighed. "I just figured out the answer."

"What answer?" Now, Castiel was perplexed.

"You asked if you were my boyfriend."

Cas' eyes widened and he held the breath he inhaled.

Dean shrugged. "I guess you are." He turned again as if this declaration was obvious. He sat on the foot of the bed to drink his coffee.

Castiel was stunned and he could feel a burning in his ears and cheeks. He ducked his head as he felt his smile grow impossibly wide. His breathing resumed with happy excitement. Castiel went to sit next to him with his jelly-filled and coffee. He scrutinized the pastry intensely, though the only thing remotely wandering through his mind was "Dean Winchester is my _boyfriend._"

"That's weird, right?" Cas asked after a few moments to ponder it.

Dean nodded. "Definitely weird."

Castiel considered that answer. "But, not bad?"

Dean shook his head and finished the last bite of donut before drinking. "No… not bad." He looked at Castiel as he attempted eating his pastry without getting raspberry jam all down the front of him. "Do _you_ think it's bad?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. Just weird."

Dean sat there for a bit thinking. He finished his drink as Castiel finished his. "Enough chick flickery. We got shit to do today, Cas."

He got up and began throwing their belongings into their duffle bags.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas." Dean stopped what he was doing to look at him.

"We really need to do laundry."

Dean laughed and nodded. "Okay, Cas. First thing on the list, all right."

Cas nodded and aided his… boyfriend… in packing up so they could get back on the road.

They made a two-week long detour in Nevada to deal with a Woman in White. There were no injuries and unsuspecting motorists were spared from future attacks. When they stopped to change their vehicle to a 1970 Chevy Nova in Southern Arizona, Castiel asked a question that had often plagued him.

"Dean, why do we steal Chevrolet or Ford?"

Dean laughed. "Well, I prefer to drive American, Cas. Besides, when the poor guy gets his insurance money from having his vehicle stolen, he'll likely go out and buy a Chevy or a Ford." He shrugged as he put the gas pump back in its cradle. "We're stimulating the American Economy. They should thank us for our contribution."

He looked at his watch as walked toward the door to get in the car. "Oh, shit. Let's wrap this up, Cas. I gotta make a call."

Cas nodded. They drove down the road and found a park. Dean pulled in under a tree and got out of the car. Cas rolled down the window, inhaled the cool morning desert air and waited for Dean to finish his call to Sam.

He watched Dean become agitated, casting a look at Castiel sitting in the car that put the angel on alert. Something was wrong. He jumped out of the car and approached Dean who pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his jaw.

"Yeah, but I don't want to talk to Doctor Tadius. I want to talk to my… shit…" Dean began pacing. He stopped when the doctor got on the line. "Hey, Doc… So, what happened?"

Castiel was able to hear the doctor tell "Mr. Browning" that his brother was currently having a difficult day. He was, even as they spoke to one another, having a break with reality causing him to injure one orderly and they still hadn't got him calmed enough to approach him. They would be getting out a tranq gun soon if they couldn't get close enough to administer a sedative. Dean turned to look at Cas, but the angel was gone.

"Cas?"

"I'm here." Castiel spoke over the phone.

"Cas, what the hell!" Dean yelled. He could hear men and women yelling in the background behind Castiel.

There was the sound of the phone rustling and exclamations from others at Cas' end of the phone. Then, he heard Castiel speak.

"Sam. You need to calm yourself."

Castiel arrived in the office of Vernica Tadius at the hospital where Sam had been admitted in Oklahoma. It was a small room located just outside the ward entrance. Castiel removed the phone from the doctor as she was speaking to Dean. He told Dean he was there and placed two fingers to the good doctor's forehead. She fell to the floor with a thump. Castiel wasn't all that concerned about her. He was concerned for Sam.

He approached the locked and guarded door to the ward and opened it, causing uproar from the staff that was posted there to admit visitors and doctors when they showed credentials to enter. He didn't care about them, either. He followed the sounds of orderlies and doctors screaming at Sam to calm down. Sam held a man as tall but more bulky than Dean by the neck. The chords of Sam's muscles and tendons showed the strength with which he held the man. The feral look in his eyes told Castiel that Sam was, indeed, having a rough day.

"Sam. You need to calm yourself."

"Cas?" Sam said. "You're not here." Sam tightened his hold on the orderly who choked and scratched his fingernails deep into Sam's forearms, shedding blood that dripped down Sam's arm and onto the orderly's fingers. "I'm hallucinating."

Castiel looked at Sam in his most calm. "Sam, even if I were an hallucination, it wouldn't change the fact that you need to calm down. Dean has been trying to talk to you for over ten minutes. He is unable to speak to you if you aren't calm. Sam…" Castiel held out the phone. He could hear a tinny voice calling over the line. "Please, you need to calm yourself."

"Wha… what day is it?" He said with a breathless whisper. When he didn't get a response, he tightened his grip on the orderly and yelled in his ear. "What day is it?"

"Wednesday," came the choked response. "It's Wednesday!"

"Sam, it's August 11. Look at the clock. Dean called you over ten minutes ago." Castiel spoke softly as he advanced one step at a time.

Sam looked at the clock. It was 8:23. Sam began to loosen his grip on the orderly's neck. He looked at Castiel with disbelief. "Cas…"

Castiel held out the phone. Sam reached for it with a trembling hand.

"Dean?" Sam asked in a shaking voice.

"Hey, Sam. Having a bad day?"

Sam nodded while continuing to stare at Castiel. The doctors, nurses and orderlies were standing around staring at Castiel, too. One doctor walked with the injured orderly, taking him out of the hallway. The others looked like they wanted to approach Sam. Castiel turned his back on Sam to let him speak to his brother. He glared threateningly at anyone who looked like they might approach him and stood guard over the brothers' privacy.

Castiel could hear Sam's reason returning by the topics of conversation as well as the quality of Sam's voice.

"Hey, Dean…"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Um… Cas is starting to show up in my hallucinations." Sam said as a whispered aside.

Dean laughed into the phone. "No, that's really Cas. He showed up about a month or so ago. I just didn't know how to tell you over the phone. I was afraid you wouldn't believe me… we've been doin' pretty well with the system, you know?"

Sam nodded. Dean couldn't see it, but Castiel figured that he knew. Castiel turned his head to smile at Sam. Sam waved at him as he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. He looked tired. Castiel approached Sam and knelt beside him. Sam held out the phone and Cas took it.

"Will you be okay? Or do you want me to walk with you to your room?" Castiel asked in a quiet, sympathetic voice.

Sam reached out a hand to place a tentative touch on Castiel's arm. "Where's your coat?"

Castiel chuckled. "In the car. Dean says I can have a… 'chocolate-covered chick flick moment' over it later."

Sam laughed as his grip on Castiel strengthened and he rose with the angel. "Sounds like Dean."

They began walking together down the hallway, hospital staff parting to allow them passage, Castiel shot them a threatening glare if they were still too close.

"Cas, how are you here?" Sam asked as they went.

"Sam, I'm an angel. I flew."

Sam stopped in the middle of the hall to face Castiel. "You were dead."

Castiel placed a hand on Sam's elbow and sighed. He steered Sam toward the room, the door open for them. "I do not think I will be questioning my Father's plans any time soon. I think it is better for me to just accept His generosity and try to redeem myself."

"So, you've been hunting partners with Dean?" Sam asked.

"We are partners, yes." Cas evaded.

"Are you taking care of him?" Sam asked.

Castiel stilled. He leaned against the doorframe as Sam passed him to enter his room. "I am trying." That was as diplomatic as he could possibly be.

"Good." Sam said as he went to sit on his bed. "He needs something good right now. We've had enough shitty to last a life time… and then some."

Castiel considered it. He agreed so he nodded. "I was saying something to him that was a similar statement not long ago."

Sam lay down and yawned. "Cas?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Will you come to see me again sometime?"

Castiel thought about it. "It will have to be on a system like yours and Dean's… so you know it's really me."

Sam nodded and closed his eyes. "Can you come next week?… Come at 8:15."

Castiel nodded, pulled the blanket over the sleeping Winchester with one hand and lifted the phone to his ear as he closed the door behind him.

"Dean, I'm coming to you now." Then, he hung up the phone and handed it to an orderly. "Do not harm him." He warned the man. "I will know if you do and I will come back."

He walked out of the ward and disappeared.

When he arrived at the park, he enfolded Dean in his arms, kissing his neck and face as tears poured down in streams. He led Dean to the passenger side, opened the door and folded him into the seat. He went around to the driver's and slid behind the wheel. There was no apprehension or anxiety, just concern for his lover. He put the car in gear and drove. Dean hadn't said a thing since his phone call to Sam. Castiel remained silent waiting for him. They drove until dark, passing the California State line before Dean stirred himself to speak.

"I need a drink." He croaked.

Castiel nodded. He watched for a place where he could stop for the night. In Desert Center, California, Castiel began looking for an abandoned house or building. He scanned with all his senses until he found an old abandoned mobile home in the desert off a dusty, dirt road. He got out, took out their belongings and got the place ready for them. Dean remained in the car, staring out a window. Castiel went to the open passenger side door and knelt before Dean, face turned upward to determine if Dean could move under his own steam or if he needed a shoulder. Dean answered the unspoken question by pushing Castiel back and rising to walk to the front door.

There was no furniture in the house, but there was one room that had whole windows and doors and it didn't smell like urine. The carpet was threadbare, but the padding underneath was enough cushion with the sleeping bags laid out. They both lay down, fully clothed, on the nest that Castiel made for them. Cas handed over a foam cup and the bottle of whiskey. Dean didn't pour the liquid into a cup. He downed several swallows right from the bottle.

"Salt?" Dean croaked.

Castiel nodded toward the sill and the threshold where a thick white line was drawn.

Dean leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Castiel sat back on his heels before the hunter. He knew Dean wouldn't talk about it. He knew the "chick flick moment" rule would still be full force. But, he couldn't help but be available to him should he need it.

Without warning, Dean started slamming his head back against the wall hard. The strangled sound he emitted caused Castiel to jump to Dean's side and pull him away from the wall. Dean thrashed in Cas' arms and punched, kicked and flayed himself to escape the angel's embrace.

"Stop it, Dean!"

The response he got was heart-rending. Dean dropped as if his strings had been cut. Castiel feared that, despite Dean's bravado and fortitude, he would one day lose what little strength he had left to handle what was dealt to him. Castiel crooned to him and rocked the hunter in his arms. He made promises to Dean in kisses and half-articulated whispers. He cradled him as he felt Dean's face turn into the angel's chest, arms circling his waist as a child would seek comfort from a parent. Castiel remained a stalwart through the night, shushing the nightmares that came with warm hands sweeping away the beads of sweat and soothing the thoughts that haunted him. He reassured the hunter with soft kisses when tears came and continued to hold him until the morning dawned on the eastern horizon.

Castiel adhered to Dean Code all morning and into the afternoon. Dean rose and readied himself to face the rest of the day after noon, ignoring the fact that the entire night was spent curled into a ball in his boyfriend's arms. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed from the tears that had wracked him, waking him at intervals all through the night. Castiel kept his eye on Dean, but didn't say anything, just remained close at hand. Dean was behind the wheel headed north toward civilization. They found themselves near Los Angeles when they stopped for the night.

They found an area hard hit by the housing crisis where whole developments were sitting empty, windows and doors boarded up. There were abandoned model homes that were fully furnished. The bedrooms, though, did not have an actual bed in them. They lined the entrances with salt and set up a nest of blankets and sleeping bags in the living room. Dean, Castiel discovered, knew a great may ways of circumventing the regulators for electricity and water run on the county grid. They managed to have hot water in a short few hours due to the fact that developers built the homes with tankless hot water heaters. They also had a way to plug their phones in and the am/fm radio that had been left in the front room. Castiel looked into the pictures left on the mantel to display for prospective home-buyers how the model would be ideal for a family.

Castiel was very confused by the feelings these pictures evoked. There was something deep inside him that he didn't know even existed that yearned for what he saw. He saw happy children holding on to smiling adults—presumably parents—and doing what "normal" families did. He was frustrated by the feelings. He had a family. The Winchesters were his family. He might have counted his angelic brethren as family in the past, but he never knew the feelings of love and belonging with his angelic brothers and sisters that he felt from Dean and Sam. He found himself becoming irrationally angry at these feelings. He lifted the picture frame and hurled it across the room. It smashed with a spectacular splintering of plastic and glass.

Dean quirked his eyebrow at the shattered picture frame and turned to shoot a questioning glance at his friend.

"Jeez, Cas." Dean said with a smile. "Tell me how you really feel."

Castiel turned to look at Dean with a sheepish smile pulling upward. He shrugged. "Yeah, well… apple pie and white picket fences are an affront to… someone... I'm sure of it."

Dean laughed. He sat down in the nest, back against the narrow couch and pulled a beer to his lips. "I always had a hard time with it."

Castiel walked over to join him on the floor. He took a beer out of the nearby cooler, opened it and also took a drink. "I had noticed." He murmured as he drank. Dean looked at him but didn't say anything. They had already been through this, more or less, over the last year or more.

They stayed very close to one another drinking their beer and waiting for sleep to approach them. Dean looked like he wanted to broach a subject with Castiel, and Cas knew he had to wait… Dean Code. He cast a sidelong look at Dean while he tipped the bottle back to swallow a draught of the foamy drink.

"Hey, Cas…" Dean began. He fidgeted and Cas brought his free hand and placed it on Dean's nearest thigh. It seemed to distract him from his thoughts for a moment. Cas prompted him with a lifted eyebrow.

"Dean?"

"Yeah… well… I was wondering… If we went and got Sam outta that damned hospital, would that be okay?"

Cas considered the idea. There were things to think about… logistics involved with bringing Sam with them. It made Dean restless and anxious that Castiel was taking so long to answer. Castiel knew that Dean really only wanted him to say, "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't it be?" But, Castiel knew he couldn't. He was Dean's partner. Sam would put them both in danger and there were things Sam needed that he wouldn't get while on the road.

"I know that I should say that we should jump in the car, right now… head out tonight… go and get your brother… but… Dean, there are things we need to think about before we can do that." Castiel tried for diplomacy.

Castiel watched the hunter grow agitated. Dean stood up and started pacing the room. He looked at the pictures, and like Castiel, did not find the intended comfort in them the designer was hoping to instill in potential buyers.

"I mean, how many times has he done this, Cas? How many times had he gone off the deep end and… and … _hurt _someone?"

Cas remained still and quiet during Dean's tirade. His eyes studied the hunter, gauging how much support to offer, what kind, how long he should allow Dean to continue before intervening. Dean continued complaining about the facility and how those doctors wouldn't know how to deal with visions of Hell. They wouldn't know how to help his brother deal with the experience in Lucifer's cage.

"Dean, I agree… we are much more knowledgeable about Sam's ordeal and will believe him more readily than the facility's doctors would… but… there is more to Sam's recovery than knowing the delusions are based on his reality… What if he didn't know it was _you_? What if he…"

Dean cut off that train of thought. "I know, Cas… and that was the reason I didn't make a big thing about him checking himself in there to begin with! But, Cas…" Dean knelt on the floor, his hands on Castiel's knees, his eyes imploring. "That was before. You're here, now. It's not just me to help him anymore…"

Castiel knew he would give in. He knew the minute Dean brought up the subject. He knew he would refuse Dean nothing. The sigh and the softening of his blue eyes told Dean they were headed to Oklahoma. If they both drove and didn't make many stops on the way, they could be there to get him even before the fifteenth. Cas could go in and get him… Dean would never go flying "Angel Air" to go tonight… But, Sam may not trust that it was really Castiel if they showed up before the fifteenth, anyway. So they had time.

Cas smiled at his lover and Dean leaned up and kissed him fiercely, as if all his fears were put to rest in that one action. Castiel didn't let Dean pull away. He yanked Dean down to sit in his lap. Dean grinned into Cas' mouth and made himself comfortable.

"If we're going to get Sam, we're going to have to come up with a new system to keep him rooted here in the present and in this plane of existence…" Castiel sighed in between kisses.

"We can talk about it in the morning, Cas." Dean told him as he began to pull his shirt off and then went for Cas'. "No more talking about my brother when we're doing this…"

Dean claimed Cas' mouth then, and Cas moaned into his mouth at the first warm touch of his tongue. Castiel loved the taste of beer and something else distinctly "Dean" as they shared a moment of exploring. Castiel felt a buzzing in the back of his mind and he thought maybe it was the effect of alcohol and the sensuous pleasure of having Dean Winchester in his lap. Dean rolled his hips and rubbed at Castiel in such a way that all further thoughts of Sam, logistics and the buzzing dropped away into the immediacy of the moment.

"Dean." Castiel gasped. He looked up into Dean's eyes and realized Dean was feeling the same. Castiel leaned to his left and slid further into the nest of blankets until he was lying on his back with Dean moving over top of him. Dean's fingers reached down to run his palm over Cas' crotch to entice the half-formed erection to harden. Then, without removing his mouth from Cas', he gripped the zipper to run the tab down the metal teeth. He slipped his hand down between the fabric and Cas' skin until he found his prize. He began rubbing in smooth strokes resulting in quickening of Cas breaths into quick panting end in a soft groan and tiny thrusts upward.

Dean pulled away from Cas despite the chasing whine from the angel and pulled his pants down and off. Dean slid forward, pulling at his own jeans and undergarment as he made his way back to Cas. Cas spread his thighs outward so Dean was able to slip between them. Dean returned to Cas' mouth, sucking his tongue into his mouth and tasting Cas. The rubbing of the two against each other caused blissful contact between their erections, making the slow, languid movements to become more determined. Cas opened his mouth to gasp and blow out a ragged breath. Dean took the moment to reach beneath them and begin fingering Cas' hole. Cas arched as soon as Dean's hand touched his skin and he lifted himself to allow for better contact. Dean chuckled at how Cas writhed in pleasure, how eager his body was for Dean's touch.

Dean leaned down to breath into Cas' ear. His voice came out low and rough, whispered like the rustling of wings sifting through air currents, like slow pouring of whiskey in a cool glass, like the slide of a bullet into the barrel of Dean's gun, like fabric moving against heated skin… Dean's voice held for Castiel infinite possibilities.

"Look at you." Dean marveled. "You like this, Cas. You, all powerful angel… at the whims and mercy of a human."

Castiel's eye remained fixed on the man over him. He could tell by the expression in Dean's face, that his eyes were dilated and had lustful desire written in his every movement. Dean probed deeper inside him and Cas closed his eyes in bliss with a moan spilling from his lips his only response.

"Oh, yeah…"Dean continued with raspy and choked breath overcome with his own yearning. "You definitely like that."

Castiel leaned forward and reclaimed Dean's mouth with his own, pressing his hand to the back of Dean's neck to hold him, moving his hips to drive Dean's slender fingers deeper, tilting his thrusts so the blunt edges of their tips rubbed the sensitive insides at best effect, pulling more eager noises from his throat. Dean responded with fewer words at the sight and sounds of Castiel's debauchery.

Soon, the ministrations to Castiel had him prepared for Dean and Dean wasn't able to take much more neglect of his own arousal. He slicked his cock with lubricant he found peeking out from Castiel's duffle. He slid the tip of his head to tease Cas' entrance. Cas held himself still with great effort. Dean noticed the trembling thighs and the panting breaths, wide blue lust-blown eyes, and reddening blush upon his cheeks… Castiel was barely holding his passion in check. Dean pushed an inch into Castiel and earned for his trouble a piteous cry of his name. Dean leaned forward and soothed Cas' brow with one shaking hand and kissed the angel's lips with tender care. He rocked forward minutely and held the gentle movements to shallow thrusts in the opening only where he's been. When he finally explored deeper with more fluid thrusts, Castiel became unhinged with winded gasps of his breath and strong clutching of Dean's biceps, trying to pull him closer, drive him further, move him to cause more of the licentious sensations.

Dean kept up his pace of interchangeable shallow then deeper thrusts, breathing from his mouth, eyes wide open watching as Cas fell apart completely. Cas gripped his erection with a firm hand and began pumping madly, pushing his hips upward to match Dean's strokes in tandem. The growling noises from Dean added to the excitement as Dean held a final thrust and Castiel screamed his name with warm ejaculate streaming from him, painting both hard sweating bodies. Dean thrust once more and Castiel felt his insides warm the same way. Castiel felt his body clench around Dean's cock and milk all that was left of him through his own ejaculation. Dean fell onto Castiel, covering him like a heated blanket, breathing in quick gulps of air as he came down from the sex-endorphins.

The stirring of Castiel's groin had been satisfied and his erection began to soften, his breath became steadier and his eyes began to droop. He felt Dean's breathing slow down, but he didn't feel like he wanted his lover to move. He enjoyed the pressure of Dean draped over him despite the heat in the room from the summer night outside. He enjoyed inhaling the scents and sounds of Dean, particularly like this—blissed out and sexed. He enjoyed feeling Dean's stubble on his chest as sleep began to overtake them. He could learn to enjoy hundreds of nights like this.

Nights that may not happen too frequently after Sam joined them.

A cold finger of fear gripped his heart…

Or at all.

Dean was prone to hide things from his brother. If this was something that Dean didn't want to discuss with Sam, if Dean thought Sam wouldn't understand or condone the relationship, he would avoid Castiel and the tender building of what they had. This could be the last time he and Dean might be this intimate. Even if Dean was willing to continue this… whatever this was… the occasions when they would be able to become intimate would be hampered by having Sam with them.

The morning would have to be sufficient time to have these worries. Maybe if he spoke to Dean, even if it violated the Code, they could make plans to deal with this, too. They still had a couple of days before Oklahoma… maybe that would be enough time to work out a system for them. Despite his worries, Dean's soft inhalations and warmth lulled him to fitful sleep.

A/N: Okay, so I didn't fill in all the holes… but, I think that I still have something to say in the next part. Let me know what parts really work and if the length of the story makes it too much to read. If it is, I'll go for shorter. I know this one didn't have a whole lot of smootches and stuff, but… like I told my friend… "It's plot with porn, not porn with plot!"


	3. Chapter 3

This is an author's note

I am pre-emptively removing this story due to FFN removing similar stories.

I can send the updates to folks who want it if you PM me and let me know where. I also have a Deviant Art acct with the same pen name. It is there, though I may have to actually start paying for it so I can upload the whole thing in one go.

Sorry for the inconvenience, folks.

For the Horde!


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